The Holiday Season

Ahhh the holiday season. A time of joy, peace, serenity, good will toward men...A time of greed, insanity, price checking and psyching out the woman about to purchase the last 2008 Christmas Barbie from the shelf at the local Hell-Mart.

Lady, if you wanted the doll that badly, all you had to do was say so. Snatching it off the shelf before my hand made it to the box only made you look moronic and quite sad. But don't fret, there are only 3 other Wal-marts in our general vicinity, and my daughter will be content with or without a plastic doll wrapped in glitter and lace.

Happy Holidays.

It's called a CARSEAT

I'm about to pull out my soapbox and technically, I am a hypocrite for doing it but I think you'll forgive me when I explain. Without further ado...

After I dropped Vincent off at school today I made a quick trip to the Piggly Wiggly (yes we have one and yes I know - it's flaming redneck as hell) for a loaf of bread. I pull into the parking lot and park the van, reaching for my keys when I see it.

A man driving a small mazda four door of some kind cuts across the parking lot in an angle to pull along side me and in his lap is a very small toddler, I'm talking 18-24 months old. He throws the mazda in park and climbs out, toddler in his arms and walks inside. I shake my head at him (of course he doesn't see) and I go in and grab a loaf of bread.

While I'm waiting in the line the man comes behind me with the little boy, cuddling him and speaking softly to him. So either he loves the child or he's putting on a show. I take my time when I walk out the doors and strap Annabel in, walking around just as they exit the store. I glance over in the back of the mazda and a car seat sits empty. I wait to see what will happen.

The man comes around and opens the door and slides into the drivers seat, child once again in his lap. He slams the door shut and adjust himself and turns on the motor, ready to take a trip down the interstate with an infant on his lap.

What the fuck???

Now I realize we live in the country and I myself have allowed my children to take the wheel in my lap while on our road which is a cul de sac in the middle of nowhere. But I would never allow them to sit in my lap while driving roads where there is traffic.

I should have called the cops on the guy, I really should have. If I see an accident occurred on the news tonight and a child was killed because he was in his parents lap instead of his car seat I'll never forgive myself.

What Gives?

Ok ladies. You know who you are. I'm asking for all of us who see you and think three things:

1. How in the world do you get it so high?

2. Does it move when the wind blows?

3. How many cans of hair spray did it take?

What is up with the rat's nest, curled beyond curled, teased beyond teased, permed beyond permed hair? Is it refusing to let go of the past? Do you think what looked good on you as a teen still looks good on you as a 30-40 something? Is it that you're a permanent child of the 80's? What is this hold that big hair has over you?

You're next guys, don't think you're out of the woods yet! What gives with the mullets? Do you think that business in the front party in the back cut is still appealing to the Nelson loving "Only time with tell" singing girls from your studly hayday?

What gives?

It's a Nader!

If there is one thing you can count on living in the south, it's Tornado season (aka Nader season). I have vivid memories of being waken from a deep slumber by my panicked Mom shouting at me to "GET UP" because we had to "GET TO THE STORM SHELTER". I hated the weather, especially on a tornado warning school night.

This morning when I got up it was like any other. The temperature outside was muggy but I didn't think too much about it. After the kids were off to school I got into the shower and hurried to the doctor. As I arrived I was told the weather was "taking a bad turn" which in Redneckville means "prepare to batton down the hatches, nader weather is fast approachin'". So I decided after my appointment to pick Logan up at Vincent's pick up time as well.

As I was driving the news came over the radio. All schools, both county (the boys) and city (Arwen's) were dismissing early. This meant I got to call and ask my Mom (please read plead and beg) to pick her up for me. After I had the boys I met up with Mom who was so kind to pick up lunch at Zaxby's (I owe you Mom, big time) so the ride home was rather peaceful.

I wish I could say the rest of my afternoon has been equally tranquil but I'd be lying through my teeth. My children, being forced into the cramped quarters that is the playroom, have been at one another since. I've been considering barricading myself into the office until Jimbo arrives home to make it through the day with a touch of sanity and control left.

And while I hate the weather it's made so much worse by one person...my local weather man. The bastard. Why do you get such a perverse pleasure from scaring the absolute shit out of folks guy? Each time we go into a watch/warning you begin to salivate and a light glows from the television out of your beady eyes. It's not very nice to all but scream at your viewing audience...

"IT'S AT YOU!! TAKE SHELTER NOW!!"

Seriously dude, is this the reason they stopped doing that little "giveaway" each time you were 3 degrees off of a daily high or low temperature? If you determine the giveaway weather anything like you do potential tornado's they must fork out some serious coffee mugs. Do the world a favor, either take some Zanax or learn to tone it down. Someone can't die of a tornado if they're already dead from a nasty tumble down the stairs because you've sent them into a frenzy.

Welp, gotta go, it's "almost here" again. If you don't hear from me, a nader' got us.

The Drunken Aunt...Again

Old Aunt Glo is up to her old antics again. My poor Mother in Law is trying her best to stay out of it but it's not easy. Especially when she hops on that community watch frequency, drunker than Cooter Brown, and begins her spewing.

I've never wished harm on another person until her. Her life (if you can call it that) consists of such extreme hatred and jealousy. Her best friend is alcohol and they get together each day to create misery for any and all who come into contact with them. They love to chew people up and spit them out. Nothing and no one is sacred.

With Mother's Day fast approaching I think about my Mommaw. How hard must it be on her to look at the path her daughter has chosen. Does she look at Glo and remember when she was a teeny baby, babbling and smiling. How could she have known what her daughter would become or better yet, just how low she would go.

I wish my family would boot this monstrosity from them.

Milk Money

Before I launch into this entry, I am going to the doctor this morning. The pain is worse. I cannot wait to get there and update you on what this crap is.

Now, for the party.

Yesterday was my niece's 8th birthday. Even though I wasn't feeling 100% I got ready and took Arwen. We arrived and there was nothing really going on. Just a bunch of kids and parents, most of the children were skating around in the rented room while their Moms and some Dads watched on.

I got Arwen situated and took a seat next to a man I was introduced to as my cousin's husband. My cousin, Angie, has 5 children. This is husband number 4 and Father to baby number 5. If that doesn't tell you enough about this woman I'll add in that, she doesn't work and has no plans to and lives in her Mom and Dad's old trailer on welfare. Her husband was cordial enough and had their baby girl (Annabel's age) in his arms.

When the time arrived to cut the cake, I washed my hands and hurried over to help cut and distribute. All of Angie's kids crowded around the table. As I was handing Arwen her plate Angie's oldest son said:

"I was told I would get the next piece!"

I ignored him and instead gave him the next slice and off he went. All of her children shoved into the line and nabbed their cake and rushed off so imagine my surprise when halfway through the 30 some children...

"Can I have a big ole' corner piece? Angie just LOVES her icing!!"

It's Angie's husband. He standing there, hovering over the heads of the children. At first I'm in shock because there are so many children that haven't been served. And here is this asshole, wanting cake first, with tons of icing for his icing hungry wife??

I cut a small side piece with has tons of the border icing on it. He looked at it, then looked over at the plate I was using to scrape the additional icing off the knife, then proceeded to pick the plate up with rubbed and smeared icing and put the cake in it before walking off. I was about to tell him how nasty that is when:

"I want some more cake!"

It's her children, again. I guess in their house if you snooze you lose. I told them I was sorry but they had to wait until everyone else got a piece before I gave out seconds. They quickly hurried over to the ice cream instead. I watched in horror as they went through plate after plate of runny ice cream. Shoving it down as if it was the last sugar they'd see until the next party they got invited to.

I'd like to say, "what is wrong with these people??" but the truth is when you have parents demanding cake BEFORE children I can only imagine. I wonder if she even bakes cakes for treats like I do from time to time. It's not expensive. I can make a 2 tier cake with icing for my children for maybe 3 dollars? Or less? How hard is it? But the best is still to come.

As the party was winding down I wound up next to them, again. This time she was talking about her baby and formula. Of course, I told her that I'm nursing Mom.

"No babies are making MY boobs drag to my knees." She said disgustedly. "You can forget it."

"Good thing they don't actually do that," I said back. "Plus they make you lose the baby weight and it's good for the baby."

"Well that's true and it's good for the baby but all of mine were on formula." I was getting the "breastfeeding is gross" vibe from her.

"The one thing though," I said, knowing they don't have money because she won't work. "is it saves TONS of money."

"I'm sure it does," she says before informing me, "but you can get WIC for up to 75,000 dollars per household with all of my children so I didn't have to pay for any of it with my kids."

That night when climbing into bed I shared the nights events with my husband and when I told him this he asked.

"Did you tell her to say thank you?"

"No, why would I?" I asked.

"For paying for half of that WIC milk of course. Do you really think that milk is free? Where do you think that money comes from."

Next time I'll be sure to remember that.

Hell-Mart's Evil Employees

What is up with Hell-Mart and rude employees??? This isn't the first time I've been treated rudely by them but it is the first time I finally spoke up.

I had to go into the store to purchase a few things. I had Vince and Annabel with me, both riding in the cart, being awesome little people. We grab our things and hurry to the express checkout. I place my things on the counter and start looking around for the cashier. I see her standing near the doors, talking to another employee. I finish and stand there and wait...she finally ends her conversation and comes over. She rings it up, I pay, and off we go to the doors.

As I'm approaching the doors I see a door greeter. She's in her 40's with very long dark hair that reaches past her hips. She looks directly up at me and we make eye contact. I give a smile and she just stares back, looks me up, then down, the looks away! No smile, no 'thank you' no 'come again'. Just her hateful freaking glare.

So I did what I've always wanted to do. I turned to her and said, "no one forced you to be a door greeter, you should find another job", and I walked out.

She didn't say anything but she didn't need to. It felt so good saying that to her face. I'm so tired of paying money to be treated like crap. Maybe next time she'll see me coming and smile, or better yet maybe she'll have found another job that doesn't require her being nice to the public.

Good Place

Erin did a post not too long ago about funny things we see (and pictures). I'd said I had my very own to blog but I kept forgetting my camera when I'd go out.

Not today!

This sign cracks me up. It's in front of a car shop and I get the giggles each time I drive by it.

What I See

Some random pictures I took today on my trip to pick up Vincent from school. I plan on hitting up our city soon. We have houses from the 1800's there (and a graveyard that is even older). I also spared you the pictures of the many broken down trailers. Redneckville runs a huge gambit of wealth and poverty.