The Things I Do For Money, The Waiting Game, And Gramma's Oatmeal: RTTR

So Tomorrow was going to be the day I finally got the hubs back from Louisiana. I don't think that's going to happen. I really appreciate all the shit he's gone through since I moved, but I think it's time he told everyone and everything to go to hell so he can come home. I'm tired of waiting, sleeping alone, changing dates, hearing my kid cry because she misses her daddy, and dealing with everyone's drama.

Do you think I'm really that bad of a person, guys? I wouldn't MAKE him do anything. This was a mutual decision, and I don't appreciate the accusations or the hateful messages. Man up, grow a set of balls, and learn what "staying out of things you don't know anything about" means. I promise, what you think you know, isn't at all what's really going on. Maybe you should disregard gossip and worry about yourself.

I'm a bit cranky when it comes to this subject. That's about all I can say. I miss my best friend and regulator, so I'm not exactly thrilled that it's going to take more time. Also, it's getting harder to keep the munchkin on the up-and-up. I can't tell her to be good because Daddy will be here soon if soon never comes.


I pounded out an article that took me a week to prepare for. It's pretty sweet, and I'll be linking to it in a post as soon as it's live. I wrote a speech for someone's kid who did something "cool", and got to hear more of the same crap I just posted about. Lame jokes.. lots of them. I finished up the last of the graphics I plan on doing for a while, and had another 100 e-mails from douchenuts who think it's my job to make them free shit. I'm letting you know now that it's not my job to give you something that takes away from my paid-for time and my family, for free. Ever. If I offer, then I offer. If you e-mail me 12 times in a day TELLING me to do something, I'm going to remind you that eating a bag of dicks can be cleansing, and block you from my life. Forever.

Now, this eating of the bag of dicks can also be applied to people who make me work hours on things I offered, and assumed would be simple, and then never contact me to finish them, or treat me like I'm their fucking bitch and can't even say thank you before they're telling me what I am and am not going to do for them.

Fuck off. My time is worth $125 an hour, and if you want me to bow to your every whim, you will pay me for it, I clock my hours with the same timer my Dad uses, and trust me, I clock your free shit. I clocked in almost three hours out of the goodness of my heart, and you will pay me for it, PLUS whatever time I waste from here on out, since you want to be a fucking tool.


Also, if you type like a douche, I'm going to block you. I won't even accept your money if it means I have to read your messages. I mean, come on: "Dhuz eyU mayK gRaFiiXx fu ah Tallt?!??!G won noe, tryyk. iiMma nea tuhh giit ah bluu XxX owna bakk. lmk. ppeecce."

What in the fucking fuck does that even mean?! I'm totally serious, here. I know what "lmk" is, but other than that, I'm fucking lost. I copy+paste-d that from an e-mail I received two hours ago. My head hit the desk so fast I wasn't prepared for it.

If that was you, you're blocked. Forever and ever. And if you leave a comment on this post, I will hunt you down and shove my old Grammar book into your ear canal in hopes that it, by some divine miracle, punctures your brain and oozes its useful knowledge all over it. Get a job, and maybe you'll learn proper english.


It's going to be super nice outside today, Thursday, and Friday. I can't wait to get out and enjoy it. I'm hoping the munchkin will be up for some serious walking, because it's going to happen. Wednesday can kiss my ass. It wants to be rainy. I hate Wednesday right now. Wednesday, you're a bitch.


I cheated when I cooked supper last night, and made spaghetti from a canned sauce. It was a huge mistake. It tasted like I dumped a cup of sugar into it, and then added some Karo syrup. No one could eat it. It was a total waste of meat, spices, and time. I promise, family, I will never do that again. Ever.


I made myself some oatmeal for a snack and breakfast tomorrow. I used the same oats my gramma used to use, and I added in some brown sugar, a dash of nutmeg, honey, and a spoonful of some home canned maple peach preserves. It was awesome, but it paled in comparison to hers. No one will ever make oatmeal like hers. Also, butter beans. She made the best, and I am just trying to make mine a fraction as good these days.


I have found the worst thing about living out in the middle of the country: waiting around for the dude to refill your gas tank. Everyone else is fine with the slight drop in temperature due to conservation, but I'm not. I haven't taken my boots off all day, and I'm in so many layers it's hard to walk around.

Also, I think I may have over-shot the limits on my Jeep. I decided to wait to get gas, and then I forgot I was low, and drove it around today. I may or may not be able to get back to town to fill it up. Anyone have a gas can? Because I'm a failure.

You know the drill, head over to Stacy's awesome blog, grab a button, write some shit down, link-up, and get in on the Random Tuesday fun! Now with more REBELLION!


Have a very random Tuesday!

Shocking Developments, The Flu, Work, And A Talking Cat -- RTTR

I have the flu. And it's not because I didn't get a shot, or because I don't use hand sanitizer. It's because I do not possess any winter shoes. I have a pair of aerated tennis shoes, some holy flats, and several pairs of flip-flops. I got stuck in freezing cold rain all day on Saturday, and my feet stayed wet. I contracted a cold, which turned into the flu.

Thank you, being broke, for making it impossible for me to buy a friggin' pair of boots. Also, thank you, tax return, for giving me the extra cash to acquire a pair.. after I got sick. At least I'll have my cherry red Ukala's soon, right? Just in time for more cold rain and yuck.

Anyhow, the flu. It sucks. It makes work nearly impossible. I have used so many eye drops trying to work today it's unreal. And now I'm blogging.. with my eye drops.. and a really sore throat. And a cough. Fuck you, flu.

I have a super bad ass article to write this week. It's about two of my most favourite things: Star Wars and video games. Together. Yay! I get to work with some friends on it, and I am actually excited to get out of the house and do something -- even if it IS for work. It'll go live next Monday, so be checking for that link.

Sunday I took my Mom to church. It was under unusual circumstances, and neither one of us really wanted to go. But we did; me with my chip on my shoulder and her with her strong religious roots. I used to love that place.. not because it was a church, but because it was a second home. I've never been religious despite growing up in that tiny little church a few miles from my house -- I'm still not.

It was awesome to see the people that helped shape me into who I am. They were extra parents and grandparents, the brothers and sisters I never had. Even though I was pretty much the outcast because I was awkward and socially retarded and they didn't really like me all that much, I will still always remember the countless hours spent in those cramped classrooms and that small fellowship hall. It was something I used to look forward to.

No one looks forward to stepping through those double doors anymore. No one even wants to talk about it. There's a new preacher in town, and he's pretty much the worst person I've ever met. I sat halfway back from the front in the same old pews I remember being a lot bigger, and listened to a supposed "man of God" disrespect and belittle every single one of the people that I loved so much. I've never been so appalled in my entire life. His wife, his friends, and some blind followers have turned that place into a den of resentment.

I stood up after I couldn't take it anymore, hands shaking, tears rolling down my face, and made a very respectful stand against his hurtful words and twisted sense of entitlement. I tried to bridge the gap, and in doing so lost the respect of my grandparents. I couldn't even look them in the eyes as I made a heartfelt plea for him to pull his head out of his ass and act like a preacher, or even a decent human being.

How can someone call themselves a man of God if they are going to verbally abuse the members of the church that have been there since before he was an afterthought? I was attacked as I stepped down and went to my daughter. It was ridiculous. The support I received from others was immense, and without them and my wonderful Mom, I would probably be lost in a bottle of something 100-proof. I just couldn't sit there and listen to the snide sarcasm and the accusations.

I really never thought I would be so depressed to be back in that church. His behavior is atrocious, and his little lackeys aren't any better. If that's what it means to be a christian, I'm thankful I'm not one. He ain't neighborly, and he definitely ain't doing what Jesus would do. Maybe he needs to take a few more classes? Maybe brush up on what it means to be a real preacher? Douchebag.

My cat talks. Seriously. I'm not crazy. He will sit and have a full-on kitty conversation. It makes me happy.


And it obviously makes me the crazy cat lady. Judge away.











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Bad Weather, Mean Kid, Dumb Husband, Fair Trades, And Star Trek For Kids: RTT Rebel

So, I traded getting out in the freezing drizzle and taking the trash to the pick-up spot for a pot of coffee and an episode of Bones. Yes, I'm that guy. I'm totally easy to barter with. Mom knows what really gets me ready to make a deal. Husband, not so much.

I'm still really happy to be home. Our awesome living arrangement is going well, and it's also keeping me busy. Since she works nights, I do the cooking, cleaning, organizing, kid watching, and working thing. I'm also about to start school again... hopefully.
I say "hopefully" because I have yet to find a suitable student loan for the remaining balance of my tuition, and "again" because, well, I've been in school pretty much the entire time I've been out of high school. I'm just trying to find my niche in the universe.

Yesterday was a really bad day to be "Mommy". I'll admit it. My kid told me she wished I would die so she didn't have to have me telling her what to do all the time. I was heartbroken. She's only three, why is this even an issue yet? What. The. Fuck? I tried to talk to Husband about it, but he just doesn't get it. He never has to be the "bad guy", so she's nice to him. I'm the one that makes sure she eats the right stuff, picks up her toys, feeds the cat, takes her dishes to the kitchen, gets the right amount of sleep, bathes properly, brushes her teeth, etc. She thinks I'm fucking Satan or something. So, of course, I get the temper tantrums and the mean names... it sucks. It sucks hard.
But, admittedly, it has been boring lately. We haven't been able to go outside and play because it's just been gross. I won't let her get her way on eating chips for breakfast or having ten pounds of candy like my in-laws do (which, fuck that.. it's not even a question of "right and wrong", but she still sees it as awful, mean mommy won't let her do something). It still doesn't make it any easier to hear your kid say something like that to you, and even though I was crying and probably making a complete case file for commitment to some kind-of institution, Husband still should've understood where I was coming from. I think he's just a douchebag man, and this is probably normal. Men aren't exactly the best listeners.

It's raining again. And it's cold. The weather hates me.

I've been adding labels to my old blog posts to avoid doing dishes. I have like, half a load, and I just don't feel like doing much today. It's fun to label things. It's like labeling a piece of pie as "yummy".



Did I mention that Curious George 2 movie has a Star Trek reference in it?! SOFUCKINGAWESOME! For Klingon, press "Cha".

Word.





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Enjoy the rest of your day!