chou chope

liberal jism

it's the last weekend of the soccer season. can i get a hell yeah? saturdays will soon be mine again. no more searching for the kelly green soccer socks on gameday, no more searching for the cleats. ah, the end of the season.

so we go to alex's last game. i'm annoyed. the worthless dumbass from the post office is there with his wife/live-in/whatever the fuck they call it. i despise these people. besides the fact that their boy is a worthless daydreaming fairy, we had some words i meant to blog about a while back...

one day i went to mail a package at the teeny tiny town post office. it's lunchtime and the line is out the door. i'm talking with a client who is also in line when i spot fairy boy's sperm donor in the back.

i say, "hey, how are you? do you recognize me? our sons are on the same soccer team, the bullets?" granted, we are ten games into the season. i've seen this fool almost ten consecutive weekends.

he says, "uh, no, sorry, but i really don't go there to check out the parents."

then he shuns me as if i have just reached out and felt his ass or something. not another word, just that. OMFG!! i'm stunned and my client is standing right there when my chin goes thud on the tile floor. does he think i would ever in my worst nightmare check him and his squirrely assed 2 foot fucking goatee out??? i guess he did.

so he's there at the game and as usual, twelve games into the season, his son is doing cartwheels and acts as if he's never seen a ball before. i'm competitive, i don't get that. i have to restrain myself from saying anything in the bleachers. it's all got to be "good game" and "way to play." can't stray too far from there, might cause an identity crisis.

alex scored 4 goals in the game and they won it! he was really excited and it was such a losing season (2-10) for his team, it was neat to end on a happy note. and i didn't call anyone a worthless dumbfuck, extra points!! at least not where they could hear it, i don't think.

wish the same were true for true. holy cow. their father showed, with the whole dirty, unshaven, hippie crew in tow. he was wearing his signature goofass goggles. and truly it was a thing of beauty, because guess where they decided to sit? that's right, right next to me.

i wish i could say that they just blended right in and it was all cool. no, as if the mongo look-at-me nuclear fallout goggles weren't enough, at half time when true's team took a seat, team grunge took the field. performance art. of all the near perfect families that i've seen alongside the soccer field, i have never before seen this. frolicking half-assed, non-dependable, non child supporting, worthless piece of shit starring as father of the fucking year, again. as i live and breathe. but the game ended, my kids left and i was all alone with my sour attitude.

do you think you've had taste of bitterness in your lives, my sweets? i don't want to win this prize, but i can't help but feel like a shoo in. go ahead, revel in your normalcy, in your home grown american weirdness, but vote for republicans please. the last thing you want to do with these monkeys is start agreeing with them. fa reals, when that happens we're all fuct.

status foe

no more yesterdays, ever.

for commission only salespeople everywhere, i would like to tell you overbearing fuckwads to piss off.

no, i didn't go to UT business school, and i really am not impressed that you did.

no, i don't enjoy conjuring up investment strategies for you and your family just so you have someone to practice your speaker phone bitch match skills. don't want my help? don't fucking ask.

no, i didn't learn in the first week of business school that the market was going to edge on up through christmas and pull back at the first of the year. you mean they teach that? first week, huh? i must have still been high at the frat house. oh yeah, that was you.

yes, size fucking matters. the size of your portfolio matters more than the size of your dick. seriously. you can compensate for the broken mini wiener you were cursed with, but i'd love know how you'll compensate for your wasted fortune? government handouts are for illegal immigrants, have some fucking respect for yourself.

and finally, please don't think you've hurt me by assaulting my recommendations, my thought process, or my concern for your well-being. all that matters is you and that ego of yours. far be it for me to let my doing my job get in the way of you doing it for me. i don't know what i was thinking.

please. you have a full time occupation and there is a reason you chose it. if you want mine, we're hiring. let's stop all the verbal judo though, because let's face it, being in my position means dealing with fucktards like you.

see, no one's jealous now.

picture this

went birthday shopping for true at a real toy store. they let him try on the birthday hat and he found an intricate wooden 3-d dragon puzzle that he couldn't live without. it's wrapped in the back of the car. i am a sucker for a birthday boy. plus, check out the cool new toys i saw...

my worst nightmare, in malleable plastique.

another classic playset, the magical impaling unicorn. sorry i didn't get a better shot of this one. i mean, only a fraction of the world's population ever gets to see a unicorn in real life, right? how fun to recreate that magical moment when the unicorn succumbs to nature and lances his victim through the chest. a mime, why not? two classic annoying creatures in one action playset. ya'll know this is going on the top of my list to santa this year.

the boys drew hair on their chests on the way home. i rarely know what goes on in the back seat on the interstate. this time, there was evidence.

and we finally carved the pumpkin.

ya'll have a good week!

the architect and the circus act

life really imitates life. my kids remind me so much of my brother and i. the sibling dynamics are just wild.

last night, i noticed alex had four or five pieces of gum in his mouth at bedtime.

"alex, spit that gum in the trash and go brush your teeth again."

alex, "but true has gum too"

true, "i'm not chewing any gum."

"true, hand over the gum." reluctantly, he opens his left hand to reveal two squished yet still wrapped pieces of gum. "other one," and he gives up two more from the right.

alex, "he's got more in his underwear."

"true, give me the gum from your underwear."

true, "that's it, in your hand. that's the gum i was saving for later."

and there you have it. my true, he saves everything, even stolen candy, because to him longevity equals purpose. but the alleycat, not so much. instant gratification, it's all he knows.

i remember when true did this homework assignment in kindergarten, planning the family firedrill. his was almost a perfect aerial floorplan of our house showing all the windows and doors as exit points. there were routes for each of us to escape through the nearest exit point in red.

alex's rendition was a little different. to him, the assignment was more about the flames than the safety or the drill. actually, it doesn't look a thing like our house. and no, i don't have a thyroid problem. i asked that he give mommy a dress this time, i was sick of being asexual. won't be asking that again.

in short, the variety makes for fun but exhausting days. i'm happy not to have clones, but i've given up on expecting much similarity at all. different ends of the same gene pool, familiar yet repulsive to the other. best buds and mortal enemies. like i said, really reminds me of my brother and i.

and just guess which sibling i was? uh huh, big fucking mystery cliffhanger there.

one day closer to death

sometimes i forget to post my happy insights for better living. zonker, thanks for coming by to remind me where i really shine, my sweet dear friend.

the b word is boring.

and now, a bitter and broken well-crafted bluegrass tune of despair. ya'll take your meds and be good out there. here are the weary boys, california sunset... special thanks to that1guy for the listening experience. hope you likey!

institruetionalized

christopher columbus, you were robbed. you were an explorer, my kind of explorer, came to america three times before you realized where you were. chris baby, they've butchered you. to celebrate your zest for discovery of a new world they close everything and no one does shit. though the market is open, volume sucks flatulent air.

columbus day was unusually busy. besides being a monday at the office, the kids were out of school and the first round of parent/teacher conferences were staged.

alex is out there. does well, when he's not loving on his neighbor, zoe, which apparently is a problem. the hugging has escalated to lifting of shorts and some zealous tickling. as big a lovebug as he is, i never saw it coming.

we even had a conversation about zoe. alex told me zoe goes to the office every day. i said, "maybe she's taking medicine?" alex says, "nope, she's not sick." so i say, "well maybe she's a bad girl and she's got to go see the principal?" to which alex sings, "bad girl, bad girl, what ya gonna do? what ya gonna do when i come for you?" that's my boy!

i start true's conference out on the wrong foot. apparently, i blurted out the "b word" in the first few minutes. the teacher let me know in no uncertain terms that they don't condone usage of the "b word" in true's class. true and alex are there, because i'm a single mom, and true turns to me and says, "if you say the b word, mom, then you are a b word, that's what miss harp says." and i'm in shock. what did i say? can anyone guess the "b word"? hint for my hinkys: think highly sensitive society, and you're on the right track.

from there, she begins running through true's test scores and telling me that although they don't have a gifted talented program in the second grade, if they did, he'd be in it. then she stuns me by saying that true is far and away the most advanced reader in his entire grade. then she pulled out his stanford test scores and tells me he reads and comprehends on the eighth grade level.

the next part of the conversation is a blur as my head swells up like a hot air balloon. i really couldn't hear much of what she saying over my own chanting to myself~oh hell yeah, mommy of the year, it's in the bag!! when i snap to, the conversation has reached epic dark proportions.

the teacher says, "but the darkest, most methodic criminals in the toughest institutions in this country, they are gifted and talented as well. it takes a high acumen and serious dedication to plan and carry out those degrees of crimes. you won't find gifted talented in the county jail, they are in the federal penitentiary."

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

chou of the year parade over, back to reality.

three is a magic number

the alleycat's rendition of the family for his kindergarten teacher. on the amazing side, he got my ring on the correct hand and finger. how did he remember that at school?

then on the disturbing side, there are some extra folks. actually, half of em either don't really exist or are deceased already. does anyone out there think this is a healthy display? no, it's fine, i had pretty much given up already.