6.23.2011

The Blog Post That Gets My Blog Flagged By All Government Agencies

This is where I tell you that today I will be getting some in-front of the camera acting practice. I will be playing a crackhead. This is my second time working with this particular director and it has been fun to practice and get a few pointers.

I consulted with Morgan on how to make myself look like a crackhead, besides the obvious suggestion that I'm sure you are thinking of right now, which is, duh, become a crackhead real quick.

He told me what he did when he had to make someone look like a crackhead so I tried it out last night and I must say, it worked. After about an hour of walking around the house like that, Madison said, "Did someone punch you...in BOTH of your eyes?"

Then she said that she had a headache. She had been whining a good bit all evening, mostly when I asked her to do something or to eat her food. "My head hurts....my tummy doesn't feel good..." You know, the kid standard. I kept having her drink water and made her lay down. As you know from previous posts, this kid does not do well with being still. She has these legs...and arms....and they're spindly and they move without even being told to. Finally I just sent her to my bed, because sometimes when you're a kid you just feel better if you can lay in momma's bed.

I still go to my momma's house and lay in her bed.

I started looking for any children's pain relief medicine I could find...which was none. At this point she starts crying ya'll. Actually crying. Now I'm really trying to find medicine. MEDICINE THAT I KNOW WE FUCKING HAVE WHERE IS IT!!!!!????? I tore apart every drawer, every cabinet, and every shelf. If you are a parent, and you have ever had a child in so much pain that they are crying and you can't find anything to help them, then I'm sure you know the feeling. It's 11 pm, and I can't figure out what to do. I have infant's tylenol but I can't find a damn thing anywhere that tells me how much I can give an older kid if needed. I have grown up tylenol but it tells you right there to not give it to kids or else all of their organs will go on strike and develop drug problems and bad attitudes.

FINE! We're going to the store I yell at the medicine cabinet. I snatch Coop out of his slumber in his Wonder Pets pajamas, grab Madison by the hand and run out the door. Anyone seeing this from the street would've thought our house had a bomb in it. [Oh, hi Homeland Security, no bomb's here, just an exaggeration. Sorry for any inconvenience.]

Cooper thinks we're going to a party, he's squealing and clapping his hands. Madison is holding her head like if she let's go it will fall apart. I go to the 24-hour grocery store and pull up to the door...the doors that are barricaded with carts. ASSHOLES! I drive to the other doors. Madison wants to stay in the car, but I assure her that if I leave her in the car screaming with a toddler the police will come and take me away.

In the store I put both kids in the buggy and turn to go into the second set of doors...BLOCKED BY A FUCKING SIGN! So, I turn to go into the other doors. Unfortunately, at the same time as a young man who I berated with my comments to noone that WHY IS IT SO DIFFICULT TO GET INTO THIS DAMN STORE AND LOOK! IT'S LIKE A MAZE IN HERE! WHY ARE THERE BEACH TOYS?THERE'S NO BEACH HERE, NO ONE'S BUILDING ANY SANDCASTLES!!!! That man will never get married or have kids. Or go to that store ever again.

I finally get out of the maze of unnecessary summer products and I see that there's only one cashier open and there's a long ass line, a line that I have to cut through with a crying child to get to the pharmacy, a line that I know I'm going to have to stand in with a crying child when I come back. As I cut through the line, I look at everyone and say OF COURSE!! Like it's their fault.

That's when I notice they are all staring at me. That's when I remember.

I LOOK LIKE A FUCKING CRACKHEAD.

I look like a crackhead. I have two children in my cart, both in their pajamas, one of them screaming, one of them clapping, my hair is half in a pony tail and half falling down all crazy, it's almost midnight. At this point I looked down just to make sure I had pants on, I was really unsure. I was surprised to see that I was fully dressed.

Well, at least there's that.

I got to the pharmacy and tore into a box of Tylenol Meltaways, which must be the fucking best thing ever because as soon as she was done chewing them up her headache was feeling better...which was all just in her mind because as soon as we got in the car she was crying again.

While at the pharmacy I stocked up on all child medications because I'll be damned if this happens again. Then I surveyed my cart to make sure I couldn't cook meth with any of these items because I just knew there would be questions at the check out counter, what with me being a crackhead and all. But, because I don't even know what's involved in cooking meth I just crossed my fingers. [Hello, DEA. No meth or crack here, I assure you. Thanks for stopping by.]
And that's that. We went home and I put Cooper back to bed, which really confused the shit out of him because he think's it's morning and where's the balloons, I thought we were going to a party?!

Before.


After...OH MY GOD RUN!!
(note: those aren't real zits...I totally put those on with make-up.)

6.15.2011

One Year Ago

I'm about to do one of those posts about a personal matter that isn't comical or necessarily humorous in fashion, so if you'd like to step away I won't be offended.

One year ago Mammaw passed away. One year ago my Momma's Momma was called up to heaven. One year ago the lady that always made pancakes in the morning that were just the right size, and she would leave the leftover ones on a plate on the stove and they were good all day even if they were cold and she would call me sugar-root and hug me tight, that lady, she left her pain and her illnesses behind for glory and an eternity playing cards and hulling peas on a front porch probably.

I believe in heaven. If you don't that's fine, I don't mind. As long as you don't mind what I believe, because I couldn't imagine living this life with nothing to look forward to afterwards.

This lady:

 F-O-X.
(name that movie)
  
 Mammaw and Pappaw

 
I always aspired to be as beautiful as her.

 
Standard 70s pose. Only thing missing? Finger guns.
 
 Glamour.


This was Mammaw's standard summer attire. 
 
Fishing day.
 
 
 She loved us no matter what hairstyle or how many piercings we had.

Never one to miss an opportunity to do something funny in a picture.

 Momma and Mammaw

 All of us girls/ladies/women together all because of the one we love the most.

Thank you for sticking around and sharing in this day with me and thank you for sticking around for every day that I happen to share with you.

I appreciate it.

6.14.2011

Wanted: My Brain.

If you happen to see my brain around could you please send it home straightaway? Thanks, oh, and tell it to bring some milk. We're all out.

I have been having one of those weeks, and it's only Tuesday. We are in the middle of a typical Alaskan summer. Which means 20 hours of sun...but without the sun. Also, rain. It has me all fucked up yall. I can't even write funny things, or meaningful things or real things that maybe you'll care about.

I could bring up the Rep. Weiner thing, and how I bet the guys at Fox News and MSNBC are just having a field day with coming up with titles for all the stories this guy is creating. I'm sure that's being done all over the place, right? Sure.

I have a song stuck in my head, I have no clue what the words are...I'm just mumbling them and humming and also whistling (sorry Lord). I wonder if Shazam works like that, maybe I can just hit the SHAZAM button and hum it and then it can tell me what the song is. Please hold...

Nope. Now I look like an idiot because I'm humming and whistling into my phone.

Dear Shazam, please make it so I can hum into the phone and then tell me the song. Thanks.

See what happend all up there? That's what an email typically looks like from me, if you haven't had the pleasure of corresponding with me yet. I just write things, usually just one sentence, press enter and then BAM, new topic. Now you know.

Sometimes I don't have much to say.
Surprising, I know.

6.08.2011

Accidental Thievery

Years ago, about 8 years...I think, I don't know. Whenever it was, I think Morgan was in middle school. We lived in a really nice neighborhood and he would often bike to the local grocery store.

One day he returned from the grocery store with a bike that wasn't his own.

Morgan: "You won't believe what happened!"

Me: "What?"

Morgan: "Someone STOLE my bike and left my theirs!!"

Me: "sigh"

Morgan: "Isn't that insane?! What assholes!!"

Me: "Morgan. Let me get this straight. You left your bike on the rack, went into the store, came back out and your bike was gone but this one was in its place?"

Morgan: "...  ...  ...yeeeeeessssss."

Me: "Morgan. You just stole someone's bike."

Morgan: "No....no...wait...no. Oh no."

He kept it.

And this is where I tell you of our fear that we have somehow committed a crime and don't know it. Both of us have this fear. Whenever we see a cop we think, "Oh God. Did I rob a bank and not know it? Did I shoplift and not realize it? Did I murder someone by accident and not even KNOW!?" "How am I going to prove my innoncence when I don't even know what happened!?" "Where was I yesterday?" "Where was I today, oh God. I've killed someone haven't I? Jesus."

And that was a peek into my brain. I hope you survived.

We think the exact same things.