i had a really bad day
i don't believe in bad day blodging, i'm opposed to it, but i'm so far behind here, and maybe you can help.
went to mentoring with katie. on my way, i stopped by true's classroom (it's directly across the hall from the mentor reading room.)
i could see that miss fin was deep into a lecture. true's class is learning about texas this week. armadillos, the alamo, davey crockett...you name it. it was an imaginative little lesson going on and i didn't want to disrupt it.
so i stepped up behind the door and leaned against it and listened. and you know what i heard? i heard my true talking non stop, just like he does at home. i gained so much respect for miss fin at that moment. it was like she kept talking and controlling the lesson even as true fought to get some attention out of the class. all the kids were yelling out and having a good time. what an artist, that teacher, she really has a great way with kids.
anyway, i'm standing there, listening at the door when mean jolene happens by. she says, "can i help you?"
i recognize her as the reading specialist that gave the mentors a cram course on helping kids with their reading, however i couldn't remember her name. i said, "oh hi, i'm true's mom. i didn't want to disrupt his class by poking my head in, so i thought i'd just listen to their lesson; they are really having a great time."
she just walked away with a student in tow, then stopped, turned around mid-step and declared she had a message to deliver to the office and then headed that way.
i went on listening. shortly thereafter, katie walked up with miss r, the mentor coordinator, and we all walked into the reading room and got busy reading.
not more than five minutes later, the school secretary walks thru the door and says, "i don't want to have to say this to you, miss chou, but they've sent me here to tell you that we can't have you hovering out in the hallways. when you mentor you have to come directly to the reading room and then leave the campus. if you want to see your son, then you need to go to the office and get a pass."
1) my knee jerk reaction is to cool down and then let them know i don't need to volunteer my time or skills to such an ungrateful organization, but i know that would really only hurt katie. she didn't do anything wrong.
2) i realize as a parent, it's good that they have rules to prevent adults from lurking in the hallways. BUT i'm there every week, they all know me. miss r was visibly offended as she witnessed the whole 'fuck off, chou' delivery speech. they know my son is in that class, and when he was in kindergarden, his teacher had me read to his class all the time. it was like we were expected to care enough to come and participate then, but now, a year later, it's all voodoo and shit. wtf?? anyone?
3) i also realize that women who work in mass estrogen outlets such as malls, schools and hospitals (god bless you ladies, i would start killin' eventually) are prone to drive high drama out of didley squat. it's how they show their prowess. if that's all this really amounts to, i guess i'm going to just have to suck it up and move on. drama begets drama and the only way to win is not to play. or so they tell me, i'm walking pms, who am i to say?
4) i almost cried. it made me feel like a child molestor, a criminal. i have no idea why no one thought it would sound offensive, but i have some serious concerns about how they view me at the school. fucking bitches, why you gotta hate?? if katie had parents that gave a crap about her, they wouldn't need me to read to her, no? are they not serving up a beat down on the few of us left that give a shit? cause i sorely feel like giving up.
so great blodging public...what would you do? where is the high road? i'm looking to get on it.
true, "mommy, if i get dressed, can we all go to the bank?"
me, "why do you need to go to the bank?"
true, "cause i want to watch em count my money and tell em about all the bionicles i'm going to buy."
me, "nobody likes a bragadoches, boy."
to answer your earlier question, chrissy, yes. i'm blodging in hindsight now. everything that's happened to me lately has happened in a blurry busy fog. too much work, too much pressure, too many dirty dishes..life can get real sucky real fast if you let it.
part of my mia period was spent in austin. ended up staying with my dear friend little debbie. now little debbie is deep in the 'about to get divorced' funk. believe me, i have been there, so don't mistake my tone for judgement.
the night i came, little d had reserved right to the home and the dog, and the hubby had hit the town, staying the night with a friend. what the fuck was i thinking? did anything about working overtime scream go spend the night with your friend who's in the earliest throes of divorce? mercy, i'm a moron.
so debbie and i got drunk. i mean, what else can you do? and then the phone calls came. at least one an hour, the freaking ringing. then the beep of the text messages, then the ringing again.
all the while, i'm trying to be supportive to little debbie. on loan, her own things, only for a couple of hours, then she has to vacate again. their home is beautiful, save for the shrine to their now dying love. every wall in the place had a framed wedding picture of some kind.
do you know anyone who decorates pretty much solely with pictures of themselves? i have one or two framed pics of myself in my entire home. one is a friend from grade school and i at a reunion, the other is me in front of lake louise in banff, canada. the most beautiful place i think i've ever been. but a shrine? not to me, maybe to the kiddos, though.
anyhoo, it was uncomfortable, to say the very least. i sat in the embattled home, surrounded with pictures of love, pictures ingrained in my own memory on every wall, pictures of the day when this day would never come. it was torture. all the while, hearing repeated tales of dissappointment, depression, and dissonance. it was the worst sleep of my life, and more stressful than i could ever imagine.
weird thing is, little debbie and her hubby are actually at war over who gets that nightmare of a landing pad. they communicate every day primarily to map out when and why each of them needs to be onsite. a constant, ongoing struggle for control. "look, i get the home, i need it. no, i left last time, you leave." i think if i was their marriage counselor i'd ask them to burn it to the ground.
guess that's why i'm a financial counselor and not a marriage counselor. one night in the temple of doom and i thought it time to cut losses and run. i'm a realist, and ain't no way to way to feel good about laying claim to a graveyard. sadly, our refuge, our solace, our happy place, our home, is only a graveyard of lost souls and memories once love moves out.
good news is, i escaped the temple of doom by the skin of my teeth. i headed out on ice covered roads just as soon as my eyes opened. unscathed, for the most part, i was happy to get home. and this time, i really was thankful for all that i have. life is good, kids are home, home is sweet, home sweet home.
on tv, a van kampen mutual funds commercial
me, "i like their funds... that's where the kids' college money is invested."
spur, "i like their pork and beans."
nice, isn't it?
blight hooked me up.
she's all preggers and nursing a sick kiddo and still had time to love up the chou chope. i can't believe what she was able to do with this place, i love it!
plus, redneck was calling me the velocibitch. looks like you're my beyotch again, my redneck friend.
thanks, sweet kelley, i do appreciate ya
ok, this shit is starting to get to me. i do it, yeah, i have to. once in a while, it's like they're psychic or something. check it:
chou chope --
A strain of projectile vomit that can kill
'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com
see? how do they do that? unbelievable.
and then there was this:
Your Birthdate: November 10
Independent and dominant, you tend to be the alpha dog in most situations.
You're very confident, and hardly anything ever shakes you.
Mundane tasks tend to drain you - you prefer to be making great plans.
You are quite original. When people don't "get" you, it bothers you a lot.
Your strength: Your ability to gain respect
Your weakness: Caring too much what others think
Your power color: Orange-red
Your power symbol: Letter X
Your power month: October
creepy, huh? seems like your typical intranet bullshite until you dig down deep. isn't my power color UT burnt orange? isn't october stock market crash month? it's like some of those far out freaky minions have implanted me with tracking sensors or something. i am very afraid.
in other news, i've been sick as a dawg. sick as a dawg with a shot gall bladder. no, sick as a dirty flea bitten dawg with a shot gall bladder and two bickering puppies.
i have been burning the candle at both ends. the kids went away this weekend, so i went to austin and worked. i had my best month since i moved back to texas (yay, me) but if i keep up this pace, i'm going to spontaneously combust or something. deadly projectile vomit just felt right somehow. that's me alright.
later blodge bretheren, thanks for all your well wishes and i didn't mean to disappear, just viral is all.
well, not so much for me really
got dumped last night. yep, ole spur pulled a quick draw and shot me square in the heart, dead. hell of thing to do on valentine's day eve, but then again, i guess i had it coming. don't ask me why, god only knows how a man's mind works.
sweet zonker had the best advice. he said, "awe shoe, don't think of it as valentine's day, think of it as independence day." i'm trying buddy, i really am.
and the kids are soooooo excited. i meant to scan in their valentines but haven't figured that out yet over here at munu. mine from true said, "I love you" on the front and on the inside it says, "Dear mom, I love you very much. you are the best mom ever in the hole wide world." can't ask to be more appreciated than that, can i?
his valentine to his teacher mrs. fin is priceless. it says, "Roses are red, Violets are blue, you are pretty love, true" i swear that boy is going to be a lady killer when he grows up. pretty easy reading his mind, eh?
now all y'all blodgers have a loverly day.
update: figured out the upload pics...they are in extended entry. enjoy!!
for zapatamama from alley cat:
true: mommy, did you know that in nineteen hundred and ninety-two, colombus sailed the ocean blue?
me: wow, did you know that in nineteen hundred and ninety-three, i graduated from the university of texas at austin?
true: whoa, you are oooooooooold.
between the political bullshit that was pulled at Coretta King's funeral, and the nutjob americans that use freedom of speech as reason to justify americans taking part in the turkish propaganda film "Valley of the Wolves," i had a moment of clarity.
we deserve every bomb, every atrocity against us, because 50-60% of us are stupid beyond belief and begging for our mutual extermination. why is it the dumbfucks are the one's always yelling? i guess they're used to the rest of us not listening.
left wing stupid fucks, you are too low to claim my flag. you aren't worth the blood it took to provide your freedoms. you're thankless, you're disrespectful and you're foul. and you will be our downfall, i'm sure of it.
i can't believe that busey plays a jewish doctor harvesting organs in iraq and we're not supposed to be offended. drop that washed up piece of shit in baghdad. they'll quarter his worthless ass in no time. traitorous pig.
please go here. i have. i stared at the crammed graves for hours and walked the town. it's thick with sorrow that will never be erased. i stared at one of the children's drawings for awhile, one of 15,ooo that died there. and when i think of it, i realize the next holocaust is already upon us. this time, we americans are the target, all of us.
next time, it'll be my kid's drawing and some not yet born canadian, probably, welling up with sadness that we just didn't understand the severity of the threat. too little, too late.
a dollar to a donut says not a one islamonut will see the propaganda as propaganda. people are going to die, lefties lie, and americans cry wolf all the time. and as we're all consumed with wiretapping and bush's obvious abuse of power (sarcasm) the islamonuts are building nukes and where do you think they're aiming them?
if you think bush is abusing power, i can't wait to hear your opinion when you are wearing a turban or a veil. oh yeah, that's right, you won't be allowed an opinion. guess that's one thing to look forward to, the silence of the damned.
alex, "no, i'm not annoying, you're the noying"
true, "no, you are"
alex, "no, you are"
true, "hey, let's have a truce. let's both stop being annoying. deal?"
had one of those speaking engagements the other night. the kind that makes my intestines squirrel up in a knot. yow. someone in the back, yeah you, remind me why i heap this pressure on myself? sometimes i really wonder.
anyways, staring out at all those eyeballs, it got me to thinking.
on friday, i got a flat tire. now, i don't know about you, but for me there is no graceful way to have any kind of car trouble. mainly i blame this on my ignorance, as i know nothing about keeping a car going. i've never changed a flat although i have watched more than a few get changed.
can we admit that it's boy work? in my mind, boys flock to flat tires almost like they're bbq pits. not happy, but serious, you know, work to be done. i think i know how, but i have no real experience with cars whatsoever and frankly, i don't want it.
unfortunately, that just leaves me awash in my ignorance, waiting for the next incident, and when it hits just like clockwork i'm going to freak out. can't help it people, when car trouble strikes, the bitch in me ignites.
add on the cliche grease monkey sticking it to the dumbfuck woman in the garage metaphor and i know you can sense my seriousness. when car trouble occurs, i swear i instantly feel a cold shot of chills up my spine and then fire in my skull. steam. anger. don't fuck with me, boy, i will whip your ass without even blinking. to put it mildly, i'm irrational. i'm a trapped goat about to be slaughtered so like a good goat i guess, i start bucking immediately.
now this should have been a run of the mill flat tire with few surprises. spur arrived on the scene and dealt with all of it, saved the day. gave true and i a ride to the tire place and yaked with us until they had oft the old and onned the new, and then took us back to the car and put the new one on.
but the new one was giving me pause. i looked once, i looked twice, the new one clearly said "kumho" around the side. what the fuck? i'm a michelin girl. again, i have some capitalism quirks. one major one is i take advice, and when my friend the grease monkey says, "only buy michelins," well, i naturally only buy michelins.
well, honeys, these weren't michelins at all. i had three michelins and a lone kumho. is they crazy? are they trying to start something? i went batshit. totally pissed, again. this time, they slipped me a fucking kumho! fucking bastards!
the long and short of it: the tire place got twice the money from me and replaced the kumho with a michelin. the daycare, where i got the flat, got the construction company to pay for the tire. so i walk away with a michelin free and clear. life is good, right?
almost, fact is everyday in my office i see the same. people so constipated with stress over making the wrong financial decision they make none. people pissed and irrationally angry, it's like they think i'm going to stick it to them (the "what's in it for you" client.) a large percentage of people, all people, simply can't habla finance. they can't, it's just like me learning about cars--an ignorance ceiling of some sort that we don't want to break through.
i know as surely as my engine check light will come on again, that everyone that reads this is going to face a financial emergency sometime in the future. trust me, it's coming. if you don't speak the language then get yourself a translator NOW!! someone you can trust. because when the grease monkey is pounding you over a stack of used kumhos, it's really too late to learn.
and i would wager that your family's welfare is more important to you than your car's.
however, until thursday, i will still be on cursed dial up and hating the very roots of blogdom with every solitary stranded email that bewilders my poor slow akwardly sad country telephone company. and fuck your blogger word verification(by the way). my blown eyes are age-ed and withering, don't test me with encryption or i might decide you're just not getting my comment. fa real, now.
but on thursday, look out. apparantly that's the glorious day when dial up will be a thing of my past, and dsl my future. i am so excited, i feel like helen keller, "water, water, water." it's like a wonderful new life in technicolor. just damn, i'll finally hear the music. joy!
also, i'm losing my "real" email address, so if you know it--might as well delete that shit. you'ld just as soon send me a message in a bottle as trust that clusterfuck of a viral mailbox. it's like a truckstop bathroom, heavalicious. chouchope around at gmail should still work fine for ya, so yikitty yak at me over there if you feel so inclined.
anyway, these nights battling with the putt, putt, putt, what-was-that-?-ways of dial up, i've been slow on getting the good word out, or receiving any for that matter.
FEB 9: LOUISVILLE, KY
FEB 10: LEXINGTON, KY
FEB 11: PITTSBURGH, PA
FEB 12: PHILADELPHIA, PA
i'm going to go lay on my couch and breathe in the absolute silence. ya'll take it easy and i'll see you all about 10 for coffee.
oh, and do swing by the blown eyed site for mega meet info. i'm sad that many on the blogroll aren't over there. hoosierboy, who's yer daddy? shouldn't you be coming? princess cat, where you at? actually there's a lot of people missing over there. if you're not coming at least express some sadness. we will miss you faraway blown-eyed bretheren, we truly will.
bless you, blown-eyeds, bless your sweet little souls.
so what happened is a few liberals decided that bush's wiretapping and nixon's wiretapping are the same. i made the comment that if they wanted to compare the DNC to terrorrists that i thought it was a stretch, but funny and go ahead. well, some limp brained commentor took offense and said i was less of a person for making that comparison.
look, i shouldn't blog before coffee, i'll give you that. i've made the mistake before. but here is what i was going for: bush is wiretapping terrorrists as nixon wiretapped the DNC. see, terrorists=dnc, funny comparison, no? hello? stop saying that nixon and bush are acting the same if you don't want us to draw the natural conclusion. there is no comparison.
anyways, this is a much better post than anything i've written so please do click the link and get over to jack's and read declare yourself. i'm trying to stay out of the comments until the java gels a coherent thought. and since i already got attacked once, i thought it more respectful of jack's comments to take it home with me and chew on it here, and you know what? i'm still right--stupid fucking comparison, liberals!!
a man in uniform, i think he's worthy of a blown-eyed bodgeroll. big changes coming to the chou chope in the near future. and innana, if you come by again, i knew there was good meaning in that analogy, i just didn't get it. dissent is american--two parties, one hangover. thanks for the drive by and you take it nice and beady, ya hear?
ya'll take it easy.