Think

One of the scariest things about parenting, we always say, is the fact you can devote your entire self to raising your kid and there is no guarantee they will be okay.  I stay home with my child, read to her, teach her things, try to fill the little sponge of a brain she has with knowledge, if you will, and hope and pray that all this will mean she will be a productive member of society.  I mean, I am crazy, I have issues but overall, when I go to sleep at night, I know I am a good person; I want the same for my kid.  I want her to be successful, kind, know she is loved and find things in life that make her happy.  Nobody hopes for their kid to be a drug dealer, a stripper or a criminal.  And, while I am not perfect, I want Bird to look up some day and know we did the best we could for her, always looking out for her interests.  Realistically, she will probably have hour-long conversations with friends discussing the ways in which her mother drives her nuts and is, indeed, CRAZY. 

One of the seriously neglected traits in humanity is the ability to possess common sense.  Daily, I see examples of this.  Bread and I are constantly telling Bird to have common sense.  We tell her to think about her actions.  Usually, we are telling her this because of some nonsensical act being performed by some common-sense-lacking person (stupid moron, really).  Something that automatically comes to mind is teenagers, smoking to be cool.  Dude, there is nothing cool about this.  It is the age of health and fitness.  Take that cancer stick out of your mouth.  You look like an idiot.  And pull your pants up while you’re at it!

I frequently see people rollerblading while holding a dog’s leash.  I apologize if you are, indeed, a person who does this.  What are you thinking?  What happens when the dog sees a squirrel and takes off?  I’ll tell you what happens: you take off like a rocket and fall on your face.  You only get one face.  People won’t want to befriend you if your countenance is all fucked up because you were HOLDING YOUR DOG’S LEASH WHEN HE TOOK OFF AFTER A SQUIRREL. Try explaining that at a job interview.  Even the best-behaved dog wants some HSA (Hot Squirrel Action). Your face is your best advertisement.  Nothing says I am a dumbass more than a frontage full of road rash.  Don’t be stupid. 

This is just our “thing.”  Can you teach common sense?  I hope so.  Think child!  Think!  Think about yourself!  Think about others!  Think about what is behind you!  Use your brain!  The biggest thing regarding stupid people is their ability to foresee how their actions impact others.  Because we are all so self-important, we only think of ourselves.  Profound.  Maybe someday I’ll write about jerks who smoke at gas stations.  I could write an entire post on this subject.  Blow yourself up, Asshole.  Leave the innocents out of this. 

This brings me to the other day when we were coming home from the library, on a FIVE-lane road. I am driving approximately 40 miles per hour.  I look over and see a man riding on a Rascal.  For those of you residing in a cave, that is essentially, a motorized wheelchair.  He is crossing the first two lanes of traffic going north.  I am heading south.  I think to myself, he is going to cross the first two lanes and then stop in the turn lane because there is no way he is going to cross in front of me.  False!  I am traveling, at a decent rate of speed, in a motor vehicle.  I am bigger (my car, but hell, probably my ass too).  I will win.  If I fail to stop you will be a smattering on the road.  And do you know what he did when I slammed on the brakes as well as my horn?  He waved.  Waved!  It was a happy thank you type of gesture.  I wasn’t stopping to let you go by!  You were not even in a crosswalk!  You deserved to get hit!  Survival of the Fittest!  I stopped my car because I did not want to deal with the hullabaloo of paperwork and statements that would have been involved in me running your ignorant ass over!  I wanted to get home; it was near dinnertime!  I needed a feeding!  And, so I stopped.  Bird wanted an explanation as to what was happening.  I told her, pointing at Wheelchair Jackass, “That man rode out in front of our car on his motor scooter.”  Her response was, “That was dumb.”  Even my four-year-old gets it.  You don’t.  Humanity fails once again.  But, the important lesson, here?  I think what we are doing might be working.  Yes!

Sale of the Century

This past weekend “we” decided to have a garage sale. We have tons of junk. We have an old house with almost zero storage space. Therefore, our basement has become our giant closet; it’s a mess. And, since we are not moving out of here anytime soon (our plan was five years), due to the fact that our home is worth a fraction of what we paid for it, we have to make do. I say purge, purge, purge, thus, the sale.

Bread likes to keep things. He is very disorganized. I have to constantly remind him (nag) to throw things out. He keeps piles of junk everywhere-the kitchen counter, his dresser, in drawers and in his pockets. I’ve actually found boxes in the basement from when we moved out of our apartment, over five years ago, full of receipts and such from his dresser. I’ve since put the kibosh on that. I force him to clean it. But, in case you can’t tell, it’s a major source of contention for us. Clutter at home equals clutter in my brain and we all know I don’t need any more of that. Ohhellno.

So, after some coercing (translation: idle threats), I convinced him to have a garage sale. I was finally going to get rid of the last of my pre-Bird clothing. If I ever have a job again, these clothes are already out of style, not to mention they don’t fit so well. So, that was my major contribution to the sale, along with various other junk (er, treasures), such as books and gifts we never used from our wedding (sorry if you’re reading and are a person who dared stray from the registry-ungrateful bastards that we are).

Bead was holding out. I posted our sale on Craigslist and someone emailed asking if we happened to have a Nintendo. I told Bread, as sort of an oh-too-bad and he says, “Well, actually we do.” WTF? I’m getting rid of my crap. Where is this Nintendo? So, just like that, we have a Nintendo and add $30 to our profits.

The day of the sale, Saturday, started out pouring. We didn’t know what to do and consulted several weather sources, who all had different forecasts, of course. It stopped raining and cleared up so we hauled our crap out. Now, let me tell you, having a garage sale is much like airing all your dirty laundry for your neighbors to examine. The neighbors were flocking to the sale. I could see their wheels turning. Where in the hell do these people keep all this crap! That’s what they were thinking, I can guarantee it. Also, having a sale is, apparently, a great way to actually meet your neighbors and to get the gossip on everyone. Who knew?

The first person to stop by was some alternative-type dude who, it turns out, has given up his car, only to ride a bicycle. He was looking for records. As I open my mouth to say, no we don’t have any, Bread pipes up with, yes, I do. Again, WTF? He heads to his secret cavern of all things in demand at a garage sale and returns with a giant stack of records. This time I am smart! I watch where he goes! To the garage! He is hoarding things in his garage! In the attic of the garage, nonetheless, where he knows I won’t go! I don’t like bugs or the rickety ladder you have to climb to get to said garage attic! Score one for Bread!

Alternative-type dude bought several records, complimented us on our fab taste in music (we also had lots of CDs) and went on his way. He was one of the less-exciting shoppers of our two-day sale. Let me tell you, a garage sale brings out all the crazies. One lady resembled Little Richard, complete with moustache. She wanted to buy a purse, asked how much and when told a couple dollars, promptly stomped off. Sorry. We could have made a deal. I’d have taken $1. Shit. There was a guy with an extra large belly in a size small sweatshirt, a guy who checked out my mom (disturbing), a neighbor who refused to pay $1 for a book, actually became offended, and, a kid who wanted to buy an abused dollhouse to paint black for his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Lair.

My favorite crazy, was another moustache-sporting woman. She was wearing a rather ratty sweatshirt; she had jet black hair, but her ‘stache was blond, and black leggings with a large rip in the back, exposing her white underwear. Now, I’m not judging her outfit, aside from the rip. Maybe she was cleaning and just happened to run out of supplies? She happened by our sale and stopped in. I’m totally not judging. BUT, wear a shirt to cover the rip! Nobody wants to see that shit. She looked at the clothes I was selling. I was thinking, yes, yes, buy some! Nope. Alas, she decided on a CD! She could have gotten pants for the same price! I wanted to tell her! I should have said, “Oh my, you’re in luck! We’re having a sale! Buy one CD; get a pair of pants for free!”

We also sold some of Bird’s toys. I know. We’re horrible parents. But, the number of toys she has far outnumbers anything else in this house. Some of the toys were garage sale finds, some she’s outgrown/sucked to begin with. We prepared her for this as much as you can prepare an almost three year-old for such a traumatic experience. We really wanted to sell her play kitchen, for as you know, I’ve bought her a new one for her birthday. We discussed this with her. She was okay with it. That is, until it actually happened. She was napping when the sale occurred. We packed up and, later in the house, the first thing she wanted to do with Grandma, who was helping with the sale and staying to babysit so we could go out, was “ play kitchen.” Poor Bird, ran to her play food and pots, gathered up a few things and turned to use her stove, only to discover the stove was gone! Where is my kitchen she asked? We explained again that we had to get rid of some of her toys in order to make room for the new ones coming in a few weeks for her birthday. She had a look of devastation, ran to the couch and buried her face in the cushions. I caved. At that moment, I totally gave in. We have to give her the kitchen now, I proclaimed, but Bread was dead-set against it. We let it pass.

Another day of her being devastated by the loss of her favorite toy passes. Again, there is more playing with pots, pans and play food sans the kitchen. She inquires several times as to where her kitchen has gone and whether or not we’re going to sell more of her toys when she’s asleep. Crap. We have scarred her for life. Finally, Bread caves. It’s nearly 8:30 on Sunday night, bedtime. And, he decides we must give her the kitchen now. Sucker! I knew it! This was supposed to be her great birthday surprise! We did it. We gave it to her! She was ecstatic! She also asked, before bed, if we were going to sell it while she was asleep. She also asked if we were going to sell the couch! I guess both of these items are precious to her. I feel her on the couch! What would we do without our couch? We have officially messed up our child! She’ll probably be talking about this in therapy 20 years from now! Great! Parents of the Year! I guess we need to find a birthday gift for our three year-old…

Polyester: Only for the Hardcore

Dear Elderly Lady,

Since it’s nearly 80 degrees and quite humid, and you are wearing a sweater, blouse, slacks and some snazzy hose, it’s clear you did not check the weather report today. I hope you don’t sweat to death while you wait for your Smart Bus to pick you up and take you to Bingo. Have a lovely time!  I hope it's air conditioned!

Signed,
Over-Heating in Breathable Cotton

P.S. The 1970’s called and they want their synthetic fabrics back.

P.P.S. You really know how to rock an elastic waistband.

Google that Shit

I do not have much to post about these days. I can summarize what is happening in my life, as of late, in about a paragraph. I am enjoying the warmer weather. I am getting outdoors to exercise. I am ceasing to stuff my face constantly but struggling to lose the 10 or so pounds I gained (also beating myself up about this a lot). I have been cooking, cleaning and reading. Bird has been pleasant. The fits have ceased (mostly) but, I understand that I’ve just cursed that. Bread has been working about 60 plus hours a week and we’re working on possibly planning a long weekend journey to the beach. Oh, and my dogs are still crazy. That’s it! Whew! I’m exhausted.

Now, here’s a little something that makes me laugh. Perhaps you’ll find a chuckle as well. I find Google to be an amazing resource. I use it constantly. I’m always saying, “Google that shit.” I’m constantly pondering what our mothers did without Google. How did you find out why your child was shitting green? What did you do when you realize, half way through a recipe, you don’t have enough baking soda and you need to know what you can substitute? I have got to hand it to our ancestors; life was definitely rough on the frontier…

I know that others like to Google as well. I say this, as though it’s a pastime, although, perhaps, for some, it is. I feel sorry for these people as their lives are even more lackluster than mine. Anyway, some peeps have recently found to my site via Google. Here is a list of things they were searching for: pooped in her pants, adult diapers, pulled pork and domestic diva. The seeker of adult diaper information did not stay long. Come back! We promise not to make fun of you…

Anyway, that’s not all that humorous but, what is funny is the auto fill function on Google. You’ll be typing away and then you can see what others are searching for. For example, Bread and I were having a conversation about the old 80’s sitcom, The Facts of Life. It used to be one of my favorite shows. We were talking about the characters and how George Clooney used to be on it. Somehow, we ended up searching for information on the character, Blair. As Bread was typing it up, “Blair’s retarded cousin” was coming up. What? Who is searching for that? And, she had Cerebral Palsay,BTW. Assholes.

When my good friend, Malbie lost her job we were hanging around one afternoon, trying to find her a new career. She declared that she liked to paint her nails. And, so it was decided that she should open a nail salon. Of course we had to Google that shit. We were searching for opening a nail salon when we saw that others were searching for, “Why Asians open nail salons,” as well as, “Why Asians so smart.” Clearly it wouldn’t take much to surpass your wealth of knowledge, dumbass.

Recently, my former coworker, who is pregnant, informed me that she was trying to find out if she could dye her hair while she is knocked up. She knows I have a fascination with this and informed me that she typed in; “Can I dye my hair while I’m pregnant,” and, “Can I get pregnant by a dog” came up. WTF? There are that many people seeking this information that it’s the first thing to come up. I’m dumbfounded! I also believe this is hilarious. Personally, I feel secure knowing there are so many less intelligent human beings on this earth…

So, Happy Tuesday, y’all! That was a bit of random miscellanea brought to you by Jessie Domestic. Enjoy your day! 

What’s for Dinner, Bitches: Installment Four

In honor of today being one of my favorite holidays, Cinco de Mayo, we’re going to try this recipe from Rachael Ray. By the way, my favorite holidays are all the ones that revolve around food. That includes just about every holiday, so there you go.

Here is the part where I go off on a little side note.  I feel like I have to...For five years, while I was in college, I worked in a Mexican restaurant. It was in an industrial park and across the street from my college so we served lots of business people and students. Every year, for Cinco de Mayo we had a huge party which included a tent in the parking lot and perhaps a band or music. The work day began at about 10 AM and didn’t end until 12 AM. Hopefully, if you had a good day, you made bank that day. I almost always did. I was cute back then! I mean, I was a stellar waitress.

My friend, Malbie, reminded me last night about the occasion when our good friend came to visit me at work with her on Cinco de Mayo. He proceeded to get extremely drunk. Over served! He then, got upset about something ridiculous (I don't recall what) and declared he was walking home. It was about 6 miles back to our apartment where he was staying. Needless to say, he did not make it home. Instead, he got picked up by campus police and taken to the local hospital. This is the same friend who, while peeing in public on his 21st birthday, informed a police officer that he was, “Taking a piss! What does it look like?” While, I’m not planning on getting arrested today (not planning but, stranger things have happened), I do intend to have a couple margaritas; I feel like I ought to toast our good friend! I owe it to him! It’s been 10 years! OMG, we are old!  I don't know anybody who has been arrested lately!  This is yet another definite sign of old age!  Shit!

Anyway, nostalgia aside, I love Mexican food. It’s probably my all-time favorite so I am definitely using today as an excuse to make some. I’m trying this particular recipe because I have all the ingredients and I won’t have to go back to the grocery store for the sixth time in a week. Normally, I’d probably do something a bit fancier but, I cannot go back to the grocery store. I fucking hate it there.

Last week I said I was going to try this recipe from Real Simple. I lied. Well, I didn’t lie but things just did not work out and the pork ended up in the freezer. I will try it soon and when I do I will let you know how it comes out. Now, go get some Taco Bell or something!

Another Reason I Don't Belong In Society

I love Target. I’m just going to come right out and say it. If I get an evening to myself, I’m probably going there. I have to look at just about everything in the store. I need ample time to peruse. I especially love the stores that have a Starbucks in them. Then, I can enjoy a Chai Latte while I bask in all that the Red Dot Boutique has to offer.

I have a system. I have to look at the bags and accessories, followed by the clothes and workout gear, clothes for Bird, shoes, household cleaners (just to make it an official work-related excursion), toiletries, cosmetics, books and lastly food (almost everything is less expensive at Target). Of course, I often get led astray by the other bargains within the store but I never leave without looking at all of the above mentioned sections. It is crucial to cover all ground; I don’t want to miss a deal.

When I’m at Target, alone, I’m in the zone. I don’t want to text or answer my phone. I’m not thinking about anything other than what a great deal something is and how I can justify buying another pair of shoes. Last week, as I was browsing the shoes, I heard a little voice say, “Do you like these shoes?” Thinking nothing of it, I carried on until I heard it again. I realized the voice was talking to me! Someone wants my fashion advice? Really? Sure enough, there was a cute, little mom asking for my help. Alright. I will oblige. Us moms have to stick together, you know.

She says, “My son hates these shoes but I like them what do you think?” Her son is about six. I’m thinking you’re probably better to take his advice since he actually sees people on a daily basis. They were cute shoes (I read magazines, I know these things). I told her I liked them. She proceeds to tell me that she’s just a busy mom. She doesn’t have time to make outfits but she doesn’t want to just run around in Yoga pants all the time. I happen to be wearing Yoga pants. While, I’m not “running around” in them currently, I did run earlier and shower afterwards which is WHY MY HAIR IS ALSO WET. I point this out to her. She says, “Yeah, I just came from my kickboxing class.” Totally goes over her head that she’s possibly offending the person she’s asking fashion advice from. Whatever. Obviously, she thinks I’m okay-looking or else why would she ask for my opinion.

Then, she whips out another pair of shoes and asks about them. I should so charge for this shit. Nope. I don’t like them. They look like Birkenstocks but the strap has sequins. This is not a good look for most people. She proceeds to tell me again that she’s just a busy mom. I’m like, well, I heard you the first time but maybe you want to talk. I don’t see a lot of people every day; I have no coworkers so I am eager to make a new friend. So I start to tell her about how I understand and, again, she starts to tell me that she’s a busy mom! I’m not good with people. I get nervous. I’m much better here behind my computer. The things going through my head are frightening me. My palms are sweating. I don’t want to talk anymore. What do I say? She thinks I’m crazy. I’m just looking at her nodding, smiling and gesturing to my Yoga pants and wet hair. I’m chanting to myself, “Just be agreeable.” Nodding and smiling and sweating…I hate when strangers talk to me! Again! She’s reminding me again that she is busy! I’m all is this the part where I say Amen? Alleliujiah? Praise the Lord? Busy moms! Amen! Should I sing? Chant? Throw rice at her? Oh, God, it’s too much! I can’t help you anymore! Ask the six-year old! I’m out. It’s hard being a social reject. I’m backing away.

The best part about this is that I obviously did not learn my lesson. We worked on cleaning out our basement yesterday so I didn’t shower until late in the day (who am I kidding I never shower until later these days). I needed to get out of the house so I went to Target. You’ll never guess what I was wearing?  Did I have wet hair?  Check!  I can't help it!  I have wavy hair!  It looks better if it air dries...

Nutters are Everywhere

Dear Thieves,

I saw you and I cannot believe what I saw. Picking through the closed pints of strawberries for all the good ones and moving them around. It's a pint! They are packaged by weight! You get what you get when you pick one! Select one that looks good! You don't get to do that. If they wanted you to do that, they would have left them unpacked. I was watching. My mouth was hanging open. You were creepy before I saw what you were doing. You were taking all the best berries and leaving a container of gross, nasty ones for some poor unsuspecting shopper to hurriedly throw into their cart and take home in the hopes of enjoying them later in the day or perhaps to use for a nice shortcake. Shame on you! You're going to get what you deserve; Karma is a bitch. You'll get it good for this one; you're probably going to step in a pile of dog crap on your way to a job interview. Rat Bastards.

Signed,
Disgruntled, but too scared to say anything

P.S. Thanks, at least, for making me feel like a "normal" human being. That is very hard to do.