Jibba Jabba

College Bound?

2011-07-26T21:11:00.000-07:00

The teenager and his girlfriend saga continues… long sigh.

I’m pretty sure this is his first love and what would be considered a serious relationship by high school standards. Now that she has been in the picture he is suddenly showing an interest in college. The girlfriend has helped him set up a college board, she is helping him prep for SATs, she is helping him with college application questions that he has ~~he has college application questions? hallelujer thank you Jesus!~~, and she is even going with him tomorrow for registration at the butt ass crack of dawn to ensure he is taking all the ‘right’ classes for his senior year.

The mister and I have been talking to the teenager about college since kindergarten. We have bought every resource possible, we have taken him to therapy ~~and doctors, pastors, priests, local bums, anyone who could give him some damn insight~~, we have invested in tutoring, we have spent hours on end talking to him and trying to figure out what in the hell was going on with him. We are the ones who have cried ourselves to sleep out of frustration and screamed at each other because of it too. School, school, school, is all that has been beaten to into his head and it was met with resistance each time like Lil Wayne to light, oh wait that’s Gremlins, same difference.

This kid spent the last six years of school not applying any effort or barely enough to get by. He has been lazy, which a to quick to label school psychologist wanted to deem as slightly ADHD. Bullshit. Now all of sudden this little pop tart comes into the picture and in less than three months she does what the mister and I have been trying to do for almost fourteen years?!?!

WHAT THE FUCK? What the hell is happening here?

Oh screw it! Who am I kidding? I love her. No, really, I love her. If she can get this boy motivated and into college I will buy her a damn car!

I need a drink.

Foreign Land

2011-07-17T21:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we went to my grandma’s birthday brunch in Montebello. After the brunch we headed back to my grandma’s house in East Los Angeles. We spent the whole day there with her and my dad and my nina, tias, and tios. It was a wonderful day and was long overdue ~~because I am a shitty granddaughter and haven’t visited in a while~~.

My poor nina was probably so worn out from N who made her be her new best friend, dragging her around, making her lie on the ground so she could make a chalk outline of her body, talking her ear off, and making her take her on walks. Poor nina, I am really very sorry! My daughter could be very clingy and even her dear old ma gets tired of it and when my nina walked up to me and put her arm around me I thought it was N [again] and I slapped it away! Oy. Sorry nina. But nina was a real trooper and took N for a walk and bought her some of her favorite Mexican candy and introduced her to the chicharone, which N couldn’t say let alone would she eat what she dubbed the chi-cho-no-neese.

I had the teenager and his GF in tow as well. Those two are really like an old married couple. Wherever we are the two of them fall asleep in front of the T.V. When they woke from their afternoon nap they decided they wanted to go for a walk. A walk around East L.A.! I wouldn’t go for that walk so you can understand my hesitation to let probably the only two black kids in the neighborhood go for a walk in lil Mexico. The teenager said we’re not going far, just by the church, we’ll be fine... and I gave in. I called him about four times and sent seven text messages in what was probably less than 45 minutes that they were gone.

When they came back they showed me pictures from their camera that they took on their adventure. They actually documented the little field trip of this foreign land. Great - N thinks she’s a foreigner and the teenager thinks East L.A. is foreign land. I sheltered these kids far to damn much! I’m really not even sure they know they are Black and Mexican :-/.

The GF

The Teenager

I had to Lysol him after I saw this damn picture.

First Love

2011-07-02T17:47:00.000-07:00

I know I have been neglecting my blog. I have been busy. Okay that’s a lie. I’ve been sluggish. I’ve been non-interesting and unmotivated. I have tried to think of something great, amusing, hell I would settle for a semi-stimulating paragraph so that whomever that dear one person out there is who reads my blog would continue to read it. That’s not working out.

I’m home for summer break and my brain is fried. Although the break from the Boyz n Da Hood school I work for is truly [TRULY] welcomed – the 24/7 time spent at home with my kids, eh not so much. There I said it. I hate being a SAHM. I hate the bickering. I hate the noise. I hate the laziness. I hate the mess. I cook, I clean, I wash, I yell at someone, I wipe-up, I cook, I sweep, I yell at someone, and I do it all over non-stop through the day. By the end of the day I want to tie my offspring together and duct tape their mouths shut and make them sit and watch me slowly break every item that they own that matters to them in this world. Then I would be the one to suffer. They would be bored out of their minds and would pester me to near death. No sense in shooting my own foot off ~~and so I drink~~.

Speaking of pestering [to the point of suicidal thoughts], lately the teenager has been harassing me to see his girlfriend everyday, all day, any day. The GF has become a permanent fixture around here and it is getting a little difficult to handle. Not that I don’t approve of her. I do approve and really I ~~want to get rid of her and dispose of the body~~ like her. What is not to like? The girl is sweet and quiet, she is covered up and not dressed like a whore and hardly wears any make-up, and she is headed for college in the fall [score]. Plus I think she has been good for my teenager who has changed overnight into a more mature young man, praise the Lord and hallelujer.

Nonetheless her invasion of my house has been rough. If I am home and I am not expecting company I like to be totally relaxed in my house. For example I do not like to wear a bra but when you have company it is kind of a given that you will tie the wayward bananas up so they don’t fuck around and slap someone in the face. If I am home I also don’t like to wear make-up but when you have company it is polite to not scare the shit out of them by going el natural. If I am home I tend to wear a grubby t-shirt, one stained by bleach, stretched out to pure comfort, and regrettably that also means that one of those wayward bananas could fall right on out if one is not careful. That would be indecorous and possibly traumatic for company. If I am home I am also overbearing when it comes to the tidiness of my house [despite looking slovenly]. The normal ~~bitching~~ yelling I do at my husband and children about picking up after themselves has to cease. After all one should attempt to appear normal and self-controlled and not screaming like a deranged lunatic over a crumb on the toaster when she has company.

This shit is driving me crazy.

The icing on this shittastic cake was this past Thursday. We had a lot of errands to run and the GF was in tow for every one of them. [WTF.] The first stop was the orthodontist for the teenager. Admittedly I don’t usually go with him into the appointment. Wal-mart is right next door so I typically run in and get a few things needed and try to kill two birds with one stone. So why did it bother me that the GF was so quick to hold his hand into the appointment? I sighed and shrugged it off.

One of our next stops was to our family doctor so that both the teenager and NG could get additional vaccine shots they needed. NG was her dramatic self, crocodile tears, and I had to hold her hand and comfort her through her one shot. Then it was the teenager’s turn to get three shots and he turned to me and said, “Awe mommy will you hold my hand?” I started to get up and walk to him and then he did it, he crushed my fucking heart, and he said, “Oh never mind ma, Bree can hold my hand.” And he reached out for her.

What just happened? What in the fuck just happened? For 17 years I have been the one to hold his hand at doctor appointments, I have been the one to sooth his wounds, and did he just toss me aside for this pop tart? Oh. Hell. No. The nurse was staring at me, knowing me very well ~~as the bitch that went off when she didn’t get her desired appointment time~~ she was waiting for my response to this fuckery with a smirk.

I was speechless. This was a first. What do I do? My first instinct was to grab the little girl by her hair and put her out of the office. After all I am his mother and she didn’t belong here. Hold my baby’s hand? I don’t think so. I will break you in half Bree.

My second instinct was to interject myself and tell her to just go ahead and sit down and I would hold my boy’s hand. But then that would make me the mother that women in my son’s future would dread, the mother who couldn’t let go and in return produced a basket case mama’s boy.

Dammit.

So I fought back words and emotions and reluctantly sat down and nearly choked on each word as I said, “Okay. That’s. Fine.” Those words left a pungent taste in my mouth and I felt like I just got punked by the teen heifer. Damn her.

The teenager saw my face and he generously offered me the following, “I love you mama!”

Yea. Right. Just not as much as the little pop tart who has consumed your every waking moment and invaded my summer, my house, and your heart.

Shiat.

Dangerous if Armed?

2011-03-27T19:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the Mr. and I were having a discussion about my baby sister. Her husband was recently deployed and we are worried about her being in another state all alone with my goddaughter and being pregnant and no family near her.

The Mr. says that our BIL should really consider buying my sister a gun and teaching her how to use it. I say, “You know I want a gun. I want to learn. We should get me one!?!”

The Mr. laughs and says, “No. That’s not a good idea. Hell no.”

I say, “Why not?”

He says, “Because I want to live! [Doh] I don’t want to get shot!”

I am looking at him like WTF? Are you serious? Do you really think I would shoot you? And that’s when NG chimes in, “Yea mommy I agree with daddy. I don’t think YOU should have a gun. You get mad. Like really mad. Like really easy. Daddy will dirty the bathroom and you might run upstairs, grab your gun, and be like bang, bang, bang don’t mess with me clean that bathroom!”

She’s giggling and she thinks she’s funny but I am appalled. OMFG. Am I really that bad? Does my family seriously think I could be homicidal if armed over a dirty bathroom? Are they all walking around terrified of me?

Well then… so be it. GOOD! They should be. It will make you think twice before crossing me or putting the toilet paper on the holder wrong. I’m okay with that. But just in case I shall remain unarmed.

Fish Bowl Syndrome?

2011-03-22T11:21:00.000-07:00

The video below is of my goddaughter/niece. She’s like a fish that caught a glimpse of herself. It is absolutely adorable and on some mornings when I look in the mirror I respond exactly the same shaking the mirror and saying to myself, “Who the ~~fuck~~ hell is that old bitch?”

(Turn my iPod off so you can hear it.)

One Uterus For Sale

2011-02-27T14:43:00.000-08:00

What I thought I had avoided hit my household. My teenager did the dreaded sneaking out of the house deed. And like most teenagers he was cold busted.

The evening was odd to begin with. I kept hearing noises that I thought were coming from upstairs or the garage. Every time I asked, “What is that noise?” both kids responded simultaneously “Nothing.” By this point I really did think it sounded like someone messing with the window. Hmm.

Then the teenager came downstairs a few times in a two-hour period and said he wasn’t feeling well and that he was going to go to bed early. It was now 8 p.m. when he last came downstairs to reiterate that he was not feeling well and was going to go to bed. Yea that’s not red flag. First of all my teenager doesn’t get sick, ever. No, I mean like EVER! He has never had an ear infection, a common cold, a fever, flu symptoms, a cavity, nothing, and that has always intrigued me. Second, my teenager doesn’t skip out on dinner and he had refused to have dinner because he was ‘not feeling well.’ Lastly, he just seemed odd and my mama radar was on high alert because I knew this boy was up to something.

Always trust your gut with teenagers. Remember they are no longer your precious little babies that you once held in your arms, snuggled with, and who came to you because you knew everything. They are now the enemy plotting to age you and make you insane with their antics.

Nonetheless we settled in for the night like we normally do. Around 10:30 p.m. I felt the urge to get out of bed and check on the kids. I opened our bedroom door. It was closed because a little bow chica bow wow was going on. Never have sex when dealing with a teenager situation it will always screw you, no pun intended. I opened the door and I was hit with a cold blast. WTF? Why the hell is it so damn cold? And then it hit me… this little monkey ass fool snuck out. I walked the long walk down the hall already knowing what I was going to find.

I turned on his bedroom light and I knew the lump under his covers was pillows or clothes. So unoriginal. His bedroom window was cracked and he was gone. I closed and locked the window, went to wake up the Mr., and then sent a text to the teenager that read, “If you have any sense your ~~fucking~~ ass better be here in 10 minutes or I’m sending the police after you.” To which he responded, “I’m far mom.”

Ugh.

I called him and he told me where he was and I suppose the right thing to do would be to pick him up but I was infuriated and I figured he got to his destination by walking so walk your ass right on back. It was about a 45-minute walk and sadly for the teenager he had just made it to his destination when he was busted and had to turn around. I admit I was taking a gamble by not picking him up and I was worried that he might decide to stay out and think to himself ‘fuck it I’m already out and in trouble might as well go out with a bang.’ ~~Like I would have done.~~ Thankfully he didn’t.

While I waited I tossed his room like I was a prison guard working cellblock B. I dumped drawers, went through papers, and yes tossed his bed. I didn’t find anything to put me on higher alert. I took the T.V., stereo, PS3, and Wii from his room and locked them up. I had the Mr. take the door off the hinges and when the teenager got home I would confiscate his cell phone and iPod.

I sat down and waited and laughed. Was I really sitting here going through this? This exact thing I put my parents through? But I was much smarter [patting myself on the back]. I don’t think I got caught the first go, or fifth or sixth either, which is why I knew the signs. And lets not forget all the times that I wasn’t just sneaking out but sneaking someone in – my husband. Hell this is how I got this child that was now infuriating me by sneaking out. Ironic. And note to self we need bars on the kid’s windows.

When IG got home we had a long chat. I went over all the ‘what ifs’ that could have happened to him. I gave him the ‘I’m so disappointed in you speech’. I lectured on how he had taken 10 steps backwards in earning our trust. The teenager responded by telling me that he wanted to go to this party. I asked, “Why didn’t you just ask to go?” He said very sadly, “Because I know you. You will want to talk to the parent or meet them. There wasn’t going to be a parent there. I just wanted to be like all the other teenagers and be able to go. I wanted to be a teenager tonight. Their parents are not as strict as you. I have it so hard.”

Awe. Poor little guy. NOT.

I said, “So you want me to be a parent who doesn’t care where you are? That’s fine. I can be that parent who doesn’t care. But you need to understand if I’m not going to care then it will be about EVERYTHING and you can’t pick and choose so I suggest you figure out how to pay for your school lunches, your bus pass, the $250 your coach needs, your school clothes/shoes, hygiene products, and meals. You ready to have no one care?”

He shook his head no and I said, “I didn’t think so.” I also explained that house parties would probably never, ever, ever happen for him so long as he is under my roof. I won’t be saying yes unless I have met with the parents and know what kind of crowd is there. Truth be told I would rather he be at a club than a house party because too much shit goes down at house parties.

He sighed. I sighed.

I gave him his consequences for two weeks. I let him know if he ever did this again that window would be locked so don’t plan on coming back. We went to bed exhausted and today he is doing some major chores while I put my feet up.

Long sigh.

Failed Math Test

2011-02-13T12:00:00.000-08:00

NG received a failing grade on her math test and with that comes a blue note attached to the test from her teacher that I must sign. Also, attached to the test was the note below from NG to me. I imagine NG’s teacher must believe that I am beating the dog shit out of her on a regular basis given this paranoid note. Swell. I will just sit here and wait for the knock from Child Protective Services. And be sure to NOT delete NG's DVR'd programs. SMH.

Saturday 9

2011-02-05T19:41:00.000-08:00

Saturday 9: Margaritaville

1. Tell us about a time that you had way too much Jose Cuervo.

The last time I had too much was about 2 ½ years ago and I started very early in the evening so by 9 p.m. I was found lying on my bathroom floor right next to my toilet. I called dear old Earl several times. It was embarrassing being that I was the hostess and had a lot of family members downstairs but them being my family they were sure to capture the moment with pictures.

2. Do you agree with the following statement: "The older you get, the faster time goes by."?

Yes. It seemed when I was a kid I couldn’t wait to be 13 and a teen, than I couldn’t wait to be 16 and get a drivers license, than 18 couldn’t come fast enough, and by the time I was waiting for 21 it was pure agony. It felt like a lifetime for those big birthdays to come. Now I feel like it was just yesterday that I was 21 and overnight I got here, to this age. WTF?

3. What do you usually do during your "down time?"

Read, blog, tweet, catch up on my shows, and of course relax.

4. When it comes to the opposite sex, do you feel you have a grasp on 'em - or do they continue to just surprise you?

I think I’ve got a pretty good grasp on the male species.

5. What is your hometown famous for?

I don’t have a hometown. My mom was a gypsy and moved around a lot and by the time I got to junior high I was bouncing back and forth between my mom and dad. I think I spent the majority of my adolescence in Diamond Bar, California and I can’t recall a single thing the city is famous for except that if you were on the freeway you’d pass it by in a heartbeat and not even know it.

6. How many romantic relationships have you had?

Just one.

7. What's the best concert that you've ever been to?

The Eagles of course baby! TWICE!

8. Which famous person would you like to meet? Why?

Ellen. Because she makes me crack up and I wish I could keep her like a pet.

9. Has a newspaper or television reporter ever interviewed you? If so, what were the circumstances and what did you think when you read or saw what you said?

No and no.

Sunday Breakfast

2011-01-30T14:00:00.000-08:00

Today we had breakfast at my mom’s house with her, my tios and tias, my cousin and sister. While we were sitting around the table the topic of gray hair came up. Everyone was talking about how much they have and where they have it when the the subject of gray hair on your pubic area came up. Don’t ask.

My Tio said, “No, we won’t turn gray down there.”

My mom said, “Oh sure you will.” [Thanks for that visual mom.]

My mom continues to say how your hair will turn gray and explain to my Tio that his balls will hang. She explains that just like our boobs hang your balls will too. They will look like wayward walnuts. Someone shoot me now. Yes, world this is my family. No topic is off limits for a Sunday morning breakfast.

Sigh.

Mexican Therapy

2011-01-17T17:26:00.000-08:00

I was texting my favorite Tio [sorry all my other Tios] all afternoon because he sent me a text that he was going to buy a new car. I am supposed to be his voice of reason because he has not been very wise with his money and is a bit of a label whore so I’m trying to talk him off the ledge when he is standing there. But after reading our text message dialogue I am wondering if both our crazy asses are not in serious need of therapy. Real therapy and not each other.

Tio: So, if you’re paying $550 for a car payment and have a chance to get a better, nicer, car and make the same payment would you trade in your existing car and at least pay this payment for something that’s very nice?

Me: NOOOOOOO! Stay away from the light Carolann! STAY AWAY!!!

Tio: You are no fun! I’m buying it and trading in the truck.

Me: Ohhhh you naughty, naughty boy!!!

Tio: It’s okay. There’s no difference in payment so what’s the big deal? If I’m paying this much might as well have a nice car, right?

Me: It can’t be the same. Did you now just lengthen the amount of time on the loan verses what you had on the current loan? Is the vehicle newer or older year model? What did you get?

Sends picture of BMW

Tio: Okay I walked way from the bimmer [such a Messican], happy?

Me: LOL… Por que? Too good to be true?

Tio: No, something didn’t seem right with the car. We settled on a car payment that was $50 more than what I pay now that I accepted but something about car wasn’t right. I am still looking.

Me: Good trust your instincts! Good job!

Tio: Yeah! WHATEVER! I’m still looking dammit!

Me: You need a therapist! Here pay me $100 per hour and I will counsel you.

Tio: Can’t I just pay you with a 12-pack and get the same results?

Me: Ahhhh [light bulb going off]! You will probably get better counseling. DEAL!

Tio: Yup after a 12-pack you will want to go with me to buy a new car.

Me: Go away evildoer!!!

Tio: Ouch! Why evildoer?

Me: You’re trying to make me let you buy a new car! NEVER! Never I say!

Tio: LOL. I see dead peeps buying cars.

Me: Ay dios! Well let them buy and we keep you from buying. If you see Tupac or Michael Jackson let me know. Oh better yet get a picture.

Me: You’re sending me blank messages! SMH.

Tio: I DID NOT!

Me: Yes, YOU DID but in BIGGER text!!!

Me: I have to get out of this house. Been in bed since Friday night. I am anxious to go to work.

Tio: No wonder why you are snapping!

Me: The walls are closing in on me.

Tio: Dammit, I did not send you blank messages. Maybe it was tupic telling you ‘let him, let him.’ You are the one that needs a therapist.

Me: Tupic? He’s not a toothpick. It’s TUPAC. Oh Tupac would not say that. He would just shoot us and probably take your car.

Me: Me need therapy? I do. I loved therapy. Need to go back.

Tio: See, see! Even Topac wants me to buy a car so he can steal it.

Me: It’s TUPAC!

Tio: Same thing!

Me: It is not!

Tio: You were in therapy? This splains a lot.

Me: Oh you hush. Yes, yes I was a long time ago. When I wound up in the hospital with a tube up my nose I figured it was time to go.

Tio: What the heck?!?! I never knew this mija, I’m sorry you are a basket case.

Me: Yea, but when they changed my therapist to some skank who looked straight out of the Playboy mansion it just made my self-esteem worse so I quit going.

Tio: LMAO! You’re so purtty. You don’t need a therapist. I will tell you you are purtty for free.

Tio: Go back. You need it… you see dead peeps like Toepack.

Me: Yea, I know. Former cutter, almost OD’d pill popper, but hey I might still need some work but thank God I’m not where I used to be. I think alcoholic is better than the above! ;)

Tio: I agree drink up.

Me: LOL! Why thank you, don’t mind if I do. Cheers!

Tio: Made you laugh! I love you more than my Louis Vuitton luggage.

Me: Yes you did. You realize I just might have to blog this whole convo.

Tio: Only if I get a royalty compensation.

Me: Okay I will split the whole $9 I have made.

Tio: I tried to drink a mimosa and a glass of white wine but neither tasted good and made me feel sick. Don’t know just can’t drink anymore.

Me: Oh I’m having a Corona, which I never liked, but it is quite tasty. Just like candy.

Tio: Yuck you’re drinking pee.

Me: Right? That’s what I used to think about Corona. Perhaps I’m just desperate. Haven’t been to the store in a while. Begging drunks can’t be choosy.

Tio: You are not well.

And that world is how Mexicans conduct therapy.

Bad Customer Service

2011-01-15T18:02:00.000-08:00

I requested a change of counselors for IG. I hated having to go over someone’s head and to their boss but when you don’t do your job what do you expect people to do? My kid is barely making it through his classes by the hair on his chinny chin chin. A relationship with his counselor that includes an open and constant dialogue is crucial and it seemed to me that she did not find this important.

The last straw was when I called the Tuesday before the Christmas break to ask her to please provide me with all grades submitted by IG’s teachers before the break because I did not want to wait for the report card to come on December 27^th. I explained that I knew the teachers had until 4 p.m. that Friday to submit but if she could give me whatever she had before she left for the day I would appreciate it.

She calls me around 11 a.m. and the conversation goes a little something like this.

Ring, ring.

Me: Hello.

Counselor: Um. Hi. Mrs. G?

Me: Yes.

Counselor: This is SS, IG’s counselor. [Smack of gum.] You had asked me to give you IG’s grades. [Smack of gum.] And um [pause] well they [I assume she is referring to her bosses] said that we could leave early. [Smack of gum.] So I am um leaving at 1 p.m. today. Yea… So um you’re probably not going to get what you asked for. No, not probably umm you’re not.

Me: [Picking jaw up from the floor. Is this bitch for real? I am totally thrown of guard.] Let me talk to your administrator.

Counselor: She’s not here today.

Me: Then let me talk with whoever is there today, right now, and in charge.

Counselor: [Smack of lips and sigh.] Ugh. Okay.

She puts me on hold and I decide to hang up. It’s the eve of break and working at an elementary school I understand the chaos. Not only that but the administrator I prefer is not there as she just explained. So I decide to wait until after the break because it was obvious nothing was going to get resolved.

I gave no reason as to why I wanted the change when I sent my written request via email to the administrator. She called me back immediately and asked if there was something specific I could tell her. I explained that the customer service was just not there and where my son is concerned my relationship with the counselor is critical. I let her know that I would never go on break and leave a parent hanging without exhausting every effort for that parent even if it meant I called them from home. I just didn’t feel she wanted to be bothered, was more concerned with starting her break, and was very unprofessional. I threw in the fact that when my son first met with her she was playing rap music in her office, Biggie Smalls to be exact, and the dirty version to boot. As a gal who likes her fair share of rap music I know there is a time and a place for it. How will my son take you seriously when you’re acting like you’re in the club?

Within the day an apology was given, my son’s counselor was changed, and all was well with the world.

Now on to conquer world peace bitches.

A Look Back at 2010

2010-12-31T11:29:00.000-08:00

A look back at 2010 in the G-house.

The year started with an awesome New Years house party that we hosted. There was a lot of family, booze, and good times minus the scare that the Mr. had alcohol poisoning after I found him lying on the shower floor with the water running. Rookie.
Good times quickly turned to shitty stress when the Nazi’s at CARB came down harsh with their new laws and regulations that required us to purchase a new truck. Only to end 2010 with news of delays on the laws and hearing that implementation will be halted until 2015. Thank you, you blood sucking bastards for the needless $1,100 monthly payment, oh and the $1,000 fine you issued us that you are no longer implementing. Thank you for not having a clue what the fuck you are talking about and bending me over to take it in the ass anyway and not so much as buying me a single fucking drink. I hope you die. No really I. HOPE. YOU. DIE. By the way I think Global Warming is a cult. [Gasp]
The truck we did purchase has been a shit hole. Think lawsuit. Again, fuck you CARB.
I missed The Ellen show, AGAIN! Dammit one day I will use the tickets I get instead of having to give them away to some stranger to use. I heart Ellen.
The teenager passed the CAHSEE on his first try his sophomore year. That was awesomeness and one less thing for me to worry about.
The teenager got his driver’s permit and gave me one major thing to worry about.
I saw The Commodores minus Lionel but eh it was still a good time.
Spring break was relaxing at the beach. That was much needed.
My sister and goddaughter were out in the spring and that was joy beyond joy.
I tried to lose weight again for the summer. Did you see any skinny pics of me showing my ass? No? Well that’s because it is still chubby and don’t nobody wanna see that shit. I’ve decided for 2011 I will make a resolution to be fat, gain 20lbs., drink more, and be far less active. My hope is the shit will work in reverse. ~~Fuck you skinny active bitches.~~
This year’s Mother’s Day Tea was at the beach and was a very blessed time. Already looking forward to the 2011 tea.
A trip to Sea World was somewhere in there.
I saw The Eagles in May and Oh. My. Gawd. Fucking awesome show. I seriously contemplated throwing my giant big girl chonies at the stage.
We had a baby shower for my brother and his wife and welcomed a new addition to the family in June, Miss Violet. The limbs from my mom’s family tree just keep on sprouting. Damn Mexicans.
I lost a very good boss due to transfer/movement. That was really hard. I really do miss him. He is a great boss, and a great man.
Summer was short and good. No complaint other than it was too short.
Started the new school year with a new principal [boss].
The summer brought me two magnificent things: Mad Men and Sons of Anarchy. Yes, I am easily pleased.
NG turned 10 and I am still in awe that an entire decade has passed since I was pregnant and gave birth to her. A decade. Time is going by to fast.
We had death hit our household, which of course sucks ass beyond ass. We lost Grammy this year [the Mr.’s grandmother]. An awesome woman and it was such a hit to our hearts. Fuck you death. We also lost my uncle [my dad’s brother]. Again fuck you death.
Soccer season for N started and should be done by now. Damn those kids for making it to playoffs. We will start 2011 back at practice.
I survived Justin Bieber. Liquor free I might add.
The teenager wanted to change schools and we went ahead and allowed him too. His past report card was improved. He still has a ways to go but things are looking up.
My sister, her husband, and my goddaughter were back out here in Cali for my goddaughter’s first birthday. They stood with me for a whole two weeks and that was seriously one of the best things in 2010. That little girl is absolute bliss. Oh and my sister too.
Cali elected another asshat for governor. I’m scuurrrrred. Very scured.
We had to move. Fuck.
We moved and are settled. Good.
The teenager turned 17. SEVENTEEN! He is a little man. Well not little he is 6’2”, but still my little man. It is weird. And again time is going by to fast.
Santa died.
Thanksgiving and Christmas were good. Seriously I have no complaints and feel very blessed.

So that was 2010. It didn’t completely suck but it did a lot. I feel very tired of the change and chaos that the last four years have been. Since the decade is over I would really love it 2011 if you could bring some stability, a little prosperity, and I’d settle for a 20lb weight loss instead of the 50 I could really use. I am hoping.

See you next year bitches.

The Husband Who Stole Christmas!

2010-12-23T13:28:00.000-08:00

Last week NG came home and as I was cooking dinner she proceeded to tell me that her BFF told her there is no Santa and that she has known this since she was four years old. This of course began a heavy conversation that resulted in me stomping upstairs, slamming my door, and sitting on my bed and crying. YES, me not NG.

NG: So is there a Santa mom?

Me: Of course there is! I believe. I want presents so I believe. If you don’t believe I don’t know what will happen for you but I sure wouldn't want to find out.

NG: No, really mom! BFF said that she saw her parents putting the presents under the tree when she was four years old. And some of my other friends say the same thing that there is NO Santa.

Me: They just say that because they are naughty and Santa won’t be bringing them what they want so their parents have to do it.

In walks the husband.

NG: Daddy, is there a Santa?

The Mr.: No. You’re old enough NG to know there isn’t. You’re going to middle school next fall and it’s about time you knew. I’M SANTA!

~~No this motherfucker didn’t! No, he did not just blow Santa right out of the water! What in the fuck?!?!?~~

IG: WHAT??? MAN! I wish it were that easy for me! I was 12 years old and still believed! I wished you would tell me the truth. No one ever did!

Me: What the heck are you doing? [Jaw dropped and horror on my face.]

The Mr.: What do you mean? She’s old enough Cess. She’s going to be made fun of at school.

NG: Yea, some kids already make fun of me and say I’m lame for believing in Santa.

The Mr.: SEE!

Me: They’re lame! [Yes that was the best comeback I had.]

IG: Yea mom I was made fun of.

Oh my frigging gawd I am seriously going to cry. The Mr. must have noticed the tears welling up in my eyes because he began to backpedal but it was too late.

The Mr.: NG daddy’s just kidding. Of course there’s a Santa.

The damage is done. She is looking at us both unsure of her daddy’s last comment. I can see her going to the other side. I ran upstairs, slammed the bedroom door, sat on the bed, and cried! He did not just do this. He did not destroy what I spent 17 years doing! Every year for both of our children, all of my hard work, mailing their lists to Santa, the snow prints from Santa that he left from the chimney to the tree, the letters, even phone calls from Santa, the cookies eaten and the carrots gone, every Christmas waking up at 2 a.m. to put all the gifts under the tree… all of it over.

NG of course was deeply concerned about her dear old mother who was losing her mind over Santa. She knocked gently on my door and came over to me as I sat on my bed and said, “I still believe mommy. I do.” Sweet, sweet girl of mine taking pity on her nutty mother who was devastated by her father’s honesty. How kind of her to try and keep hope alive for me.

Christmas is such a wonderful time and my children know the true reason for the season I have taught them this. They also understand giving and gratitude at this time and the importance of family. But Santa was something separate that helped make it feel magical and amazing. I don’t know why it hit me so hard but it did. It crushed my heart and maybe that’s because Santa symbolized their childhood and their innocence and now it was gone. I was a wonderful Santa going all out every year to make them believe. Now what do I have to look forward to? Damn that husband of mine.

I'm Tired

2010-11-28T19:09:00.000-08:00

It’s been more than a month since I blogged. I have a ton of crap I have wanted to share, vent about, and or cry about but just haven’t had time. I will try to summarize the last month because I know that inquiring minds want to know [sarcasm].

My sister and her husband and my goddaughter were out here in Cali for a couple of weeks and stood with my family and me. That was absolutely wonderful. And when they left it was like someone had taken my heart and threw it down the garbage disposal. I need my sister. I miss my sister.
The Mr. is good. Driving me insane as usual and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
IG is doing well at his new high school and on the baseball team. I have his annual IEP upcoming so I am excited to hear what they have to say.
NG made honor roll.
On November 1, 2010 we found out we had three weeks to find a new home to rent, pack, and move. The ~~fucktards~~ owners of the house we were renting lost the home in foreclose. Don’t get me wrong I have BTDT but I didn’t rent my home out to another family in the process and turn their lives upside down too. Finding a home that met all the needs of our household was about as fun as a lobotomy. Then of course there was the fear that we would rent another home and end up in the same situation. Renting sucks.
During the above process on a brighter note we found out that we were looking at July of 2011 when we would be able to go back out into the real estate market and buy again. Our credit is also on the rise. Recovery from BK is looking good – we are on target. However, we are realistically probably more like a year or two away from buying a home again.
We moved on November 20^th and a week later I am unpacked and even have all the Christmas decorations up [yes I am tooting my own horn]. Well all is done except the outside lights but that is not my job. The new house is great and I am enjoying it and so is the rest of the family. The kids love it. Their rooms are a bit smaller than they had before but they are not complaining.
On November 22^nd my baby, IG, turned 17. GULP.
Thanksgiving was really nice. We spent it with my in-laws and it was a really good day.
I missed out on the Black Friday deals that I was trying to catch online. Shocking.
Work is work.
NG has re-written her letter to Santa 12 times. Seriously I am contemplating giving her coal for driving me nuts.

So that’s it in a nutshell.

As. If.

2010-10-24T18:26:00.000-07:00

When did decorum and good customer service just go out the window? When did companies find it acceptable to hire idiots and allow them to represent their businesses?

Tonight I decided not to cook [shocking] and ordered Domino’s Pizza. When the deliveryman pulled up into my driveway I heard voices so I thought someone else was also here because we currently have houseguests. I looked out the front window and nope no one else was here just the deliveryman on his cell phone talking and cursing away all while trying to gather up my order from his vehicle. He walked up my walkway, which runs directly in front of my living room window, and I could hear his conversation clear as if I was on the other end of that phone. He’s talking and walking and sprinkling his conversation with a few choice words that I myself am fond of but I just knew that when he rang my bell and I opened my door he would NOT be on that phone.

I was wrong.

IG opened the door while I was getting my credit card out of my wallet and this ~~motherfucker~~ deliveryman was still talking on his cell phone. I was standing there in shock and looking at him with the hope that he would get the message and acknowledge me, you know the damn customer. Again, I was wrong. He was holding the phone with his shoulder to his ear and he said, “Man I can’t believe this shit… You know. This is bullshit… Man hold on I’m trying to give this to a customer.”

He is obviously having trouble removing my items from the warming pack and by this point I have had enough of his foul mouth and bad customer service. The only person cursing up in this bitch is going to be me! I looked at him and said, “~~Why the fuck don’t you get off the phone you stupid motherfucker!?!? Have you lost your got damn mind? You’re a grown ass man at least 30 and you don’t have a lick of sense.~~ Why don’t you hang-up that damn phone and maybe you would be able to get my items out of that bag. This is absolutely ridiculous customer service.”

Poor IG, by this point he was watching me closely. IG knows me well and he knows what I expect when I am paying for a service. He knew that I was upset over this treatment and he knew I was about to go ~~the fuck~~ off on this fool if he didn’t fall inline. To bad the fool didn’t know it. He didn’t hang-up, which boiled my blood, but he was smart enough not to say another word to the person on the other end of that phone or me. Good thing because I was two seconds away from throwing a pizza at him. The Mr. must have heard bits of his conversation and then heard me so he comes out of our bedroom with his machismo shirt on and says, “Is there a problem out here?” I said, “No just an idiot who won’t be getting a tip.” [And I’m a really good tipper.]

I know this might seem absolutely stupid to be so upset but I am. I am livid that people do not show any work ethic and maintain any honor while they are earning their living. I don’t care what you do for a living if you don’t do it with integrity and your best foot forward than you are a character-less person. It is disturbing how common this behavior is. I see it at work with people showing up five minutes late everyday and or leaving five minutes early, I see it with tasks assigned that go undone with only the delivery of excuses, I see it in the personal appearance of employees and their lack of professional presentation and I find it all absurd.

In the time we have lived here we have always had wonderful customer service from Domino’s Pizza – I hope that has not ended. You only get two chances with me before you lose my business. Strike one Domino’s.

Puberty Sucks Ass

2010-10-18T18:54:00.000-07:00

Puberty has arrived and NG loves it. From having to wear a training-bra and I think somewhat ~~freakishly~~ in love with her changing body to finding a few very short and light hairs under her arm she is all around enjoying this process. ~~TOO FUCKING MUCH.~~ She laughs about it, talks with me incessantly about it, and shows me constantly every major and minor change in her body.

Nonetheless I am thankful that she feels so comfortable with me and feels she can come to me. I have tried to be very open and honest with her. I have made every effort to answer all of her questions. Like when she told me that she didn’t want a ‘broken vagina’ and that she wanted hers to stay the way it is and I explained the importance of a woman having her menstrual cycle even though inside I was screaming I DON’T WANT A ‘BROKEN VAGINA’ either! I want her to hear the birds and the bees and everything in between from me and not from a group of stupid little girls who have gotten their information from God knows where. Like the time that Jennifer R. told me that if I ate Cheetos my boobs would grow and I spent the entire summer before 8^th grade eating NOTHING but Cheetos. I did grow a half a cup size… and I also put on six effing pounds.

I also don’t want to be the mother who doesn’t want to share the truth because I’m uncomfortable or afraid. Like my stepmother whose mother told her that sex was when a man took his penis and peed in you. Of course she was a teenager in the 1960s and amongst a generation of women who had mothers who did not talk of such things. But can you imagine her wedding night? She was terrified.

With the changes going on in NG and little things like getting an email from her teacher that she is sending notes in class to a boy that read ‘do you like me? Circle yes or no’ I am realizing that I am more terrified than I have admitted. One, because she is my child and well there really isn’t a two or three. She is my child, enough said. I’m going to be in a whole lot of ~~fucking~~ trouble… I can already see it.

I am so improperly prepared for this stage of her life. With IG it was very different because the Mr. handled most of the conversations. Although I kept telling IG I was here if he ever needed to talk, I knew that he wouldn’t really ever come to me over his dad. It was an empty gesture. But NG I am sure will be coming to me and the truth is that telling her that sex is when a boy pees in you, on you, I don’t really give a shit where – well it sounds really appealing to me and God willing terrifying enough to repel her from doing ‘it’ for the next oh say ten years.

Soccer Mom

2010-10-03T10:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday NG had a soccer game. My MIL and FIL, my mother, my Tia Lela, and my cousin Adina all came out to support NG and her team. Bad. Idea. You see this apple doesn’t fall far from her ghetto rowdy mother tree. You put us together at any organized sporting event where one of ours is playing and we get ugly.

#8 on the opposing team was really, really good. NG’s coach decided she should cover her. During a break from playing NG ran over to us and she said, “I HATE number 8. She keeps hitting.”

Most ~~good~~ parents would respond with good sportsmanship advice and encouragement and telling their child to just keep their head in the game. Play fair and play nice. I am not a good parent. I have never claimed to be. And I am certainly not the average parent and I come from a long line of women just like me.

So I responded, “Hit her back. Elbow her hard. Trip her behind. Don’t you let her punk you, DO YOU HEAR ME?”

My mother responded, “Get her NG, and get her good. Don’t be afraid of her. She’s not that damn good.”

Tia Lela responded, “You’re to afraid of the ball. Your mom and dad need to put you in the front yard and throw the ball at you until you’re not afraid anymore.”

Yes blogsosphere this is my family. They are loud. They are ~~criminal~~ certifiable. And they are all mine. Which is why if you fucked with me I could call on any one of many and we would set out to kick your ass and throw the ball at you until you’re not afraid.

Screw You Universe, Screw You

2010-09-27T19:34:00.000-07:00

The fucktastic life that I have been living and I know you are all dying to hear about. So hear it goes. On September 10^th grammy passed away and the services were the following week. I delivered the eulogy on behalf of the family. Harder than you could ever know.

This past week my uncle, my dad’s brother passed away, and the services were the same week. I delivered a reading. Again, harder than you could ever-fucking-know.

For the record two funerals in less than two weeks is fucked up. Did I mention that?

During the same week I found out that my teenager was falsifying grade checks and was once again doing poorly in school. Apparently the Safe Haven Law doesn’t apply to teenagers. I checked. So since I can't drop his ass off anywhere my next instinct was to put him out and make him sleep out in the patio. I didn't. Instead I decided to go ahead and change his schools [amongst many other changes]. I am praying a change of environment and removal of friends will help ~~because if it doesn’t I just might drive right on off a damn cliff.~~

Saturday after my uncle’s funeral I rushed back from Los Angeles to get NG to her soccer-opening day. The first game of the season and we are the last game of the day. 2p.m. in the afternoon, sitting in my own puddle of ass sweat, and they start late ~~fuckers~~. On the upside NG does pretty well until she gets kicked in the knee and is unable to finish the game. Do I have to stay if my kid isn’t playing? According to the Mr. yes, yes I do need to stay and watch these other little shits who I care nothing about. ~~Fuck.~~

We leave the game, rush home, shower, and rush off to Tio Felipe and Tia Serena’s for a birthday party for their son Anthony. Yes, finally exactly what I need is some familia time and lots, and lots, and lots of liquor. I’m drinking, I’m dancing, I’ve got my arms in the air and yelling “woohoo” like a damn fool, and then the police come and bust up the whole night. It’s fucking 9p.m. Really? REALLY? What asshole neighbor just shit on the best time I have had in a while? ~~Die asshole.~~ Drinking to music at a nice respectable level is just not the same but it didn't stop me from getting shit faced.

And if the fuckery is just not enough I come home from work today and our A/C is not working. It is the hottest day in twenty years, it is 91 degrees in my house, 114 degrees outside at 6-effin-p.m., and my fucking A/C is on the fritz. I’m standing at the kitchen sink doing dishes and sweat is running down my legs. Just fucking swell. Who did I fuck with in this universe? Someone tell me so I can hunt him or her down. If the repairman doesn’t make it out tonight I am going to a hotel. And I just might leave everyone else behind.

September needs to end.

Saturday 9

2010-09-11T23:45:00.000-07:00

Saturday 9: Tell Her No

1. When was the last time that you had to tell someone that you loved, that the answer was no?

Yesterday. When NG asked would she still be having her Diva Dance party today and I had to tell her no. I could see her disappointment and I could see that my 10-year couldn’t see past her little world despite the major loss we just took as a family. We had a long talk as this was a life lesson and a lesson on etiquette and she needed to learn it. In the end she understood.

2. When was the last time you visited a hospital?

Yesterday. The Mr.’s grammy passed away. Anyone who has been through this raw pain understands what a hard day yesterday was and such a loss. My husband's grammy was a very special and sweet woman and a woman I always thought was such a class act.


Thanksgiving 2007: Chloe, Grammy, Naomi

3. If you were to start a club, what would the subject matter be, and what would you name it?

The Borracha Club: A place where wives/mothers can come and consume alcohol and enjoy an amazing bitchfest with women just like you... and consume alcohol. Oh and consume alcohol.

4. Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex?

Yes. Hasn’t everyone?

5. What's the first thing you notice about the preferred sex?

Arms. I like strong and defined arms. I like to be held. Yes, that’s right this bitch likes to be held. But don’t get it twisted I can still open up a mean can of whoop ass.

6. What really turns you on?

Picking up after yourself. If the Mr. would put his clothes in the actual hamper I would rock his fucking world.

7. What was your biggest mistake?

Not enjoying my children enough when they were really small and allowing the busyness of life to take away to much time with them. Time I realize now I will never get back.

8. Tell us something totally random about yourself.

I only have one kidney.

9. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?

Yes. I have heard many, many times by random strangers and people I know that I look like Leah Remini. I’ve also heard Jennifer Lopez, this was when I was thin. And more recently I was called a “chubby Eva Longoria” by a co-worker. I'm pretty sure all of these people have a vision problem. Or a substance abuse problem. Or maybe both.

Toy Story 3 (Four-Disc Blu-ray/DVD Combo + Digital Copy)

I survived Justin Bieber and all I got was this stupid t-shirt

2010-09-11T19:10:00.000-07:00

I got my tickets!!!

Okay truth is I did not get a t-shirt.

NG turned 10 on August 31^st and one of the gifts we gave her were tickets to see Justin Bieber [courtesy of a wonderful friend and co-worker who works for SMIBC and the employer puts on a concert every year for their employees]. We told NG about the concert after cake and ice cream and the screams that came out of this kid’s mouth were ungodly. I’m pretty sure I saw a pack of wolves across the street as I walked our guests out.

Wanting to build up the anticipation for the concert we didn’t tell her the date. Okay I didn’t tell her because I knew she would be unable to sleep the nights leading up to it. Which in turn meant that I would not be able to sleep. So this past Wednesday, September 8^th I woke her up for school and I said, “You need to change the clothes you picked out to wear to school today.” NG looked at me and said, “OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG, it’s today?!?!?!?!?!?” I ~~smacked her and said snap out of it~~ nodded yes and she picked out her favorite Justin Bieber shirt with some neon pink pants to match [SMH] and decided how she would wear her hair.

Anxiously waiting for this show to get started!

I’m sure it was the longest day ever for her. I picked her up from daycare and got her cleaned up of the grime that comes with being an elementary school kid and then we headed to the venue. I picked up our tickets from will call and we got in line. A security person walked up to me and pointed to my camera bag and said, “You can’t take that in with you.” I said, “I asked and I was told we could bring a camera.” She said, “You can take a small camera, a point and shoot type. Open that bag and let me see it. [She looks at it] Oh no, no you can’t take that in there. That’s a professional camera.”

HUH?

I said, “Umm no this is not a professional camera. It is a Nikon Coolpix 8700. It’s 8.0 megapixels. Hell they make those small point and shoot ones you’re allowing inside in even higher megapixels than this! Are you kidding me?” She says, “No ma’am I’m not. You can take it and when you get to the gate they will confiscate it.”

~~Mutherfucker! Give me a got damn break. Hell no they are not confiscating my $900 camera you assholes.~~ “Okay I will take it back to my trunk.”

By this point NG is anxious and paranoid because we have lost our place in the long line that is forming. She doesn’t understand that we have assigned seats so it will be okay in her universe. She also doesn’t understand that her chubby and out of shape mama now has to walk BACK up this damn hill to get to the venue. She needs to be worried about me having a heart attack and her not making it to the concert at all instead of her place in line.

We make it through the gates and I explain that our first stop will be the restrooms. We get that done in record time considering the mayhem and head over to the food and beverage counter. I order her a pizza and lemonade. No lemonade. No juice of any sort. I looked at the lady like really? I said, “My daughter doesn’t drink soda. What do you have? Can I get a water?” She responds, “No we don’t have water in a cup.”

Hmmm. Breathe. I say, “Okay I understand that you don’t want to give me free water and that’s fine. Do you have bottled water?” She says, “Yes we do. It’s $4.50.” ~~$4.50 for a fucking small bottle of Dasani water? Does the shit have gold flakes in it?~~ I let her know that’s fine and to also give me a beer and then she drops the devastating news that came out of her mouth in very slow motion, “There’s no beer. No alcohol here tonight. These are Justin Bieber’s rules.”

~~That little fucking pussy! You’re going to make me sit through this and the screams of hundreds of little girls and I can’t have a fucking beer with it!?!?!?!?~~ I looked at her and said, “Are you serious?” She was. I paid and walked away and made a mental note to search online for a flask. It is a must have.

We found our seats, which were pretty good and sat down to wait for the almighty Justin Bieber. As we were waiting I saw the t-shirt kiosk and told NG we should go get her one before the show starts. She was a bit paranoid that we would lose our seats so after ten minutes of explaining [again] that our seats were assigned and we would not lose them we journeyed to the kiosk. $45, a t-shirt, and two rubber band bracelets later we were back in our seats when the Mr. sent me a text message to get her another one. Really? REALLY? One shirt is not enough? If you wanted to run this night than your ass should have come and sat in the freakishly cold air for this outside concert to endure this bubblegum artist who will go down just as NKOTB did. Long sigh. Breathe.

Back to the kiosk.

Another shirt later we were sitting and I decided I would ask the nice lady who asked me to take a picture of her and her friend that if I gave her my email address would she send me pictures from the night since I wasn’t allowed to bring my camera in. She said, “Oh yea definitely. I can do that.” ~~The bitch still hasn’t sent them.~~ I still haven't received them.

Countdown to the Bieber

Finally 7p.m. rolls around and the surprise opening act begins. The surprise is that she is not an actual celebrity singing talent, at least not one that I’ve ever heard of. Her name is Vita Chambers and I admit when they announced her name I thought holy shiat what kind of concert is this? Are they bringing a porn star out here? Nope ~~I’m not that lucky~~. It was another bubblegum singer who I’m pretty sure ripped off songs from No Doubt and Lady Gaga.

She wraps it up after three or four songs ~~I’m not really sure because there was blood coming from my ears~~ and then the fifteen-minute countdown timer appears. By this point I could kill Justin Bieber for making us wait MORE. I admit I am totally digging the anticipation and excitement building in NG so I just keep on smiling and saying, “Isn’t this great!?!?” But inside I’m thinking boo you stupid little fucker for not allowing me to have a drink while I endure your singing and the screams of hundreds of little girls.

Someone is starstruck!

We finally make it to the five-second countdown and there he is. The young man who is making every tween and teen girl across the nation go insane along with their parents. I am pretty sure the screams from the venue could be heard on I-15. The concert is filled with songs I’ve never heard, lots of home video dating back to about two years old on this ~~pussy~~ kid, and about four wardrobe changes that included a pair of extra large red converse that reminded me of clown shoes. Every person is standing so of course in an audience who is majority under the age of eleven it makes for difficult viewing. I allow NG to stand on the chair until the usher decides to single me out for it out of the other hundreds of parents doing the same with their kid. I explain that unless she goes row by row to make every person in front of me sit than I am going to allow my kid to stand. She walks away. Thank God because I didn’t want to go to tribal jail or some shit.

Finally this show came to an end. Thank goodness because if that ten year old girl behind us yelled “I LOVE YOU JUSTIN” one more time I was going to slap the shiat out of her. I swear I was waiting for her to say I’ll have your baby Justin.

The event is over and I am mother of the year. And my kid better remember her love and gratitude for me when she is thirteen because I’ve got the tickets to prove this night happened. Overall I had a really good time with my baby girl despite losing a few brain cells and this wasn’t even that kind of concert where everyone was puff, puff, puff, pass, pass, pass! But I did realize I prefer those kinds of concerts and not concerts where there is some Nazi teenager telling me what I can and cannot do. That Justin kid is really lucky I didn’t bring my wongo period chonies to throw at the stage!

This show rocked!

A few terrible pictures

Hello World

2010-09-06T15:58:00.000-07:00

I've really got nothing. Just stopping by my blog to say hello out there!

Saturday 9

2010-08-28T19:27:00.000-07:00

Saturday 9: Little Miss Can't Be Wrong

1. Who was the last person you dealt with that felt that they could never be wrong?

I’m not going there.

2. Tell us about one person who is the most like you.

Mmmm. I don’t know anyone like me. There is not one person I can think of as crazy as me and in need of serious therapy like I am.

3. What is something you really want right now?

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I’m a wee bit drunk and can’t feel my teeth and it is a sure fire method to sobriety.

4. What are you doing this weekend?

I am cleaning and organizing as much of this house as I can in this short ass weekend. The office is done. My bedroom is done. And well, uh, that’s all that’s done as of today.

5. Are you in a good mood? If yes, Why?

NO. Not. At. All. I’m emotional, been crying for the last 6 hours, I’m drunk, and I’ve listened to the Eagles greatest hits four times now. What does that say to you? Oh I don’t give a shit what it says to you. Fuck you.

6. Do you have an ex that you are pretty sure thinks about you a lot?

Yea but I married his ass so he better be thinking about me.

7. What's one thing you wish you could do but can't?

Stop crying.

8. What's one trait you hate in a person?

Laziness, it is the root of all evil. I can’t stand a person who blames everything and everyone for their own life choices and than refuses to realize that they are lazy and to blame for their circumstances. You can point the finger at everyone else, request they own up and take responsibility, but really what do you yourself bring to the table? Not a got damn thing.

9. What's one thing you like to do alone?

Poop. I really prefer no company. But if you really must join me than let me know and I will see what I can do.

Chef Girlardee

2010-08-24T20:53:00.000-07:00

Tonight NG asked if she could bake some cookies. And by baking I mean cutting pieces of dough from a log courtesy of the wonderful people at Pillsbury. Initially I wasn’t thrilled by her gesture. This of course meant I needed to ~~parent~~ show her what to do. While yes using a log is definitely baking for dummies, it is a huge step for a 9 year old that has never used the stove let alone the oven.

By this point I am exhausted from ~~my fourth beer~~ work and I am really running short on patience so I looked at her and said, “Do you really want to do this, to bake? It’s a lot of work?” She of course responded with enthusiasm and all kinds of please moms. Silly girl, you have no idea how you will loathe this chore even in its simplest form. I sighed internally and cheerfully said, “Okay sweetheart.”

I showed her what to do and guided her through it. Once the cookies were in the oven and the timer was set she said, “Oh my gosh mommy I can’t believe that I just baked cookies! This is so cool. I really hope they come out yummy. Can you believe it? I did it all by myself…” And somewhere around there she lost me and I started thinking okay hold on there Julia Childs it’s not like you made mashed potatoes from a box or some shit. Calm down. But than she said something that totally pulled me out of my ~~beer~~ fatigue induced daze, “Mommy maybe one day I can make dinner. Or even breakfast! Like the big breakfasts that you make on the weekends. That would be so awesome!”

What? Make dinner? Did she just say that? Holy shit I have struck gold with my own little peasant child to cook my dinner. I was all kind of enthusiasm at that point and said, “That would be wonderful. I think you should start practicing and soon enough you will be able to make a dinner all by yourself! You would be all kind of good at it. When should we get started?”

Yes, yes you read that right I did just pimp my kid. If cooking makes her happy and enthusiastic than who am I to stand in the way of her dreams? Don’t judge me – be jealous bitches!

Saturday 9

2010-08-21T19:47:00.000-07:00

Saturday 9: Welcome Back

1. Where were you the last time that someone welcomed you back?

Work. I was welcomed back from the summer break. Yee haw.

2. Tell us who is you favorite non-family member to hang out with?

Jeanette. She is total awesomeness when I get the rare chance to see her ass. Hint, hint bitch.

3. What was the last thing that happened to anger you?

I woke up. If you know me at all you know anger is a constant state for me.

4. What was the last thing that you saw that was shocking to see?

That would be Antoine. How the reporter reporting this story kept from busting up laughing is beyond me. And why is Antoine telling us to hide our husbands? He’s coming for them, huh?

5. What is your favorite thing to do on Saturday besides Saturday 9?

Hangout with thee familia of course.

6. Have you had your summer vacation yet? If yes tell us about it.

Vacation? What is this vacation you speak of?

7. Pick out one of your cousins and tell us about them.

ONE? Do you know how many damn cousins I have?

Umm okay I will tell you about my cousin Elizabeth. She is one of four, the second child in her familia. She is 35 and part of the OG cousins - my generation. She is a beautiful woman, mother of three boys, and in a relationship. She has never met a camera she hated and she has her MySpace pose down to a T, or is that Facebook? Yes, Facebook pose. She works hard for her family and she is always so pleasant about whatever is on her plate. I swear she doesn’t have a bad bone. But when we were young I thought she was a witch. She was very mean to me. She used to chase me around my Nana and Grandpa’s house taunting me, pulling my hair, pushing me, and just all around being mean. But I’m not afraid anymore Elizabeth. I’m not afraid anymore.

Love you cousin.

8. Do you have any special plans for next week?

No. Work. That’s all.

9. At what age will you consider yourself old and why?

I’ve been 27 for the last almost six years and if I can just keep on staying that age than I will never consider myself old!

Email or Physical Address?

2010-08-21T16:26:00.000-07:00

This morning as I was going through my tickler file and paying the bills my check re-order slip was in today’s stack of bills/tasks. I got online to order them. Yes, there are still some people left in this technology-advanced world who still require a hard paper check.

Gulp.

But I really do need them. I need them to pay my daycare provider weekly, I use them to pay the rent, and I use them to pay ~~those pinche putas~~ the I.R.S., and occasionally for other household needs. So while they may last a very long time I eventually have to re-order the antiquated pieces of ~~shit~~ paper.

I logged into my account and because I changed designs it didn’t auto populate the fields. When I got to the address field I automatically typed in my personal email address. My email address is what I instantly think of when asked for my address and I thought to myself this is pretty sad that technology and gadgets and the World Wide Web and social networking are all I have on the brain. Which is evident by the fact that I tweeted about this.

I began deleting my email and typing in my physical address. Then I thought wait a minute; why not leave my email address? After all if someone wants to get in touch with me than this is definitely the way to do it. In fact on every ‘what’s the best way to reach you?’ that comes across my desk I always check the little box for email. I communicate with the kids’ teachers in this manner. I get updates on banking information this way. Almost all of my utility bills come to me in my inbox. And I get utterly annoyed when I have to have an actual person-to-person conversation and or wait for something in the snail mail. Not to mention my email address will not likely EVER change. Well unless someone can outdo Gmail – not. With my email address listed I don’t have to worry that my checks will be inaccurate should I move. Bonus.

I decided to go for it listing a family email address that is not associated with any form of personal business. This way I don’t have to worry about identity fraud if someone should try to hack my Gmail account. And now my checks will read like this:

Apple iPad MB292LL/A Tablet (16GB, Wifi)