If NBC calls... I have no idea where I got this clip.
9.12.2008
My Daughter Is Dating... Please Send Money For My Bail
Today I read this:
DELTONA, Fla. - An angry Deltona father whacked his teenage daughter's boyfriend with a metal pipe after finding the boy naked in his daughter's room. Authorities say the father, 45, didn't even know his daughter had a boyfriend or that the youngster had been sneaking into the home for more than a year.
He heard noises coming from his daughter's bedroom Thursday morning and saw a stranger standing naked on the girl's bed, he swung a metal pipe. He then chased the teen out the front door and called police.
The boy was taken to the hospital where doctors closed a head wound with staples.
The father was charged with aggravated battery on a child and bonded out on $10,000.
The father was charged with aggravated battery and bonded out on $10,000???? Huh? Let me get this straight... If I hear something in my house and I go to investigate and I find a naked person jumping on a bed in my house, I am not supposed to go Rambo on their butt? I am not supposed to whack them over the head with a metal pipe? What about a baseball bat? Can I hit them with a baseball bat? Better yet, what about a gun? Can I shoot the naked person who is jumping on a bed in my house if I don't know who they are?
I guess not.
Do you know what would have happened if my father caught this kind of activity going on in my house when my sisters and I were growing up? My father would not have hit the boy over the head, no, he would have strangled the boy and then hit us over the head. We would have never seen the light of day ever again. We would still be in our rooms today, locked away from perverted boys and bad influences. We would eventually be on the news when we finally were able to emerge from our bedrooms at the age of 45 squinting at the sunlight and saying things like "What do you mean Scott Baio is 45 and Single?" and "Now let me get this straight, you can carry around your telephone in your back pocket and talk to anyone around the world for $29.99 a month?"
Parents don't stand a chance today. You can't even bring the shotgun out and threaten a teenager anymore... they'll call the police and you'll be in jail and the teenage boy will be out with your teenage daughter trying to convince her that he loves her and can't live without her... blah blah blah.
They don't scare me... little punks.
DELTONA, Fla. - An angry Deltona father whacked his teenage daughter's boyfriend with a metal pipe after finding the boy naked in his daughter's room. Authorities say the father, 45, didn't even know his daughter had a boyfriend or that the youngster had been sneaking into the home for more than a year.
He heard noises coming from his daughter's bedroom Thursday morning and saw a stranger standing naked on the girl's bed, he swung a metal pipe. He then chased the teen out the front door and called police.
The boy was taken to the hospital where doctors closed a head wound with staples.
The father was charged with aggravated battery on a child and bonded out on $10,000.
The father was charged with aggravated battery and bonded out on $10,000???? Huh? Let me get this straight... If I hear something in my house and I go to investigate and I find a naked person jumping on a bed in my house, I am not supposed to go Rambo on their butt? I am not supposed to whack them over the head with a metal pipe? What about a baseball bat? Can I hit them with a baseball bat? Better yet, what about a gun? Can I shoot the naked person who is jumping on a bed in my house if I don't know who they are?
I guess not.
Do you know what would have happened if my father caught this kind of activity going on in my house when my sisters and I were growing up? My father would not have hit the boy over the head, no, he would have strangled the boy and then hit us over the head. We would have never seen the light of day ever again. We would still be in our rooms today, locked away from perverted boys and bad influences. We would eventually be on the news when we finally were able to emerge from our bedrooms at the age of 45 squinting at the sunlight and saying things like "What do you mean Scott Baio is 45 and Single?" and "Now let me get this straight, you can carry around your telephone in your back pocket and talk to anyone around the world for $29.99 a month?"
Parents don't stand a chance today. You can't even bring the shotgun out and threaten a teenager anymore... they'll call the police and you'll be in jail and the teenage boy will be out with your teenage daughter trying to convince her that he loves her and can't live without her... blah blah blah.
They don't scare me... little punks.
9.11.2008
Ahhh, Young Love... It Cost So Damn Much
When Carl and I were first married I was a working woman. I had a yob. I had money honey. Not a lot... but it was money. Soon we became pregnant and Carl and I made the decision that I would stay home with our children.
About a year into that decision, Carl started questioning my spending habits. "Why did you spend $45 at Target? Do we really need to buy toys for the baby? How come you bought 3 pair of socks? The baby can only wear one pair at a time... just do more laundry. Diapers? What ever happened to cloth ones that you rinse out in the toilet and scrub by hand?"
Eventually I started to crave having my own money again... or rather money to contribute to the household. I thought it would help with Carl's budget worries if I got a j.o.b.
So I got a job at Target... I figured that I spent most of my time and money there, I may as well work there. I went through the training and came home with my schedule. I posted it on the fridge and said "See! I contribute! I matter! I can bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan and never let you forget that you're a man!"
My first day I quit. I realized that I didn't want to leave my home with my child and go to work. I remembered the decision that my husband and I made and went to him and said "Listen Bubba... I ain't workin. Now go buy me some Bonbons so I can watch my stories on the television."
He said "You are right! I am so sorry I ever complained about money. You are the wisest woman in the world. Thank you for pointing out my weaknesses."
Not really, but if you remember, Carl cannot get my blog in the Middle Eastern country that he is in so he can't really dispute anything I say on here... so I am sticking to my story.
In the end I took over the checkbook and Carl stopped questioning why we had to buy diapers for our baby. And we all lived happily every after... The end.
You may be wondering why I am telling you this story. Well... my little sister has been married for two years now and she is getting tired of explaining to her husband that she does in fact NEED feminine hygiene products and NO, she is not going to use rags like our Grandmother did... so she has become a Avon Lady.
Avon Calling! So here is her web site. Go on it, support my sister and her Maxi Pad buying habits so she can feel a little power... so she can bring home a little bacon... so she can make money and look good doing it... so she can say "honey, do you need money? I have some and can spot you a 20 if you would like."
http://clairebarker.avonrepresentative.com/
on-line shopping... I bet a smart woman thought of that!
About a year into that decision, Carl started questioning my spending habits. "Why did you spend $45 at Target? Do we really need to buy toys for the baby? How come you bought 3 pair of socks? The baby can only wear one pair at a time... just do more laundry. Diapers? What ever happened to cloth ones that you rinse out in the toilet and scrub by hand?"
Eventually I started to crave having my own money again... or rather money to contribute to the household. I thought it would help with Carl's budget worries if I got a j.o.b.
So I got a job at Target... I figured that I spent most of my time and money there, I may as well work there. I went through the training and came home with my schedule. I posted it on the fridge and said "See! I contribute! I matter! I can bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan and never let you forget that you're a man!"
My first day I quit. I realized that I didn't want to leave my home with my child and go to work. I remembered the decision that my husband and I made and went to him and said "Listen Bubba... I ain't workin. Now go buy me some Bonbons so I can watch my stories on the television."
He said "You are right! I am so sorry I ever complained about money. You are the wisest woman in the world. Thank you for pointing out my weaknesses."
Not really, but if you remember, Carl cannot get my blog in the Middle Eastern country that he is in so he can't really dispute anything I say on here... so I am sticking to my story.
In the end I took over the checkbook and Carl stopped questioning why we had to buy diapers for our baby. And we all lived happily every after... The end.
You may be wondering why I am telling you this story. Well... my little sister has been married for two years now and she is getting tired of explaining to her husband that she does in fact NEED feminine hygiene products and NO, she is not going to use rags like our Grandmother did... so she has become a Avon Lady.
Avon Calling! So here is her web site. Go on it, support my sister and her Maxi Pad buying habits so she can feel a little power... so she can bring home a little bacon... so she can make money and look good doing it... so she can say "honey, do you need money? I have some and can spot you a 20 if you would like."
http://clairebarker.avonrepresentative.com/
on-line shopping... I bet a smart woman thought of that!
9.09.2008
Did She Just Say She Wanted To Prance Around In A Thong???
"OK-that is it! I have had it! I cannot stand myself one more day!" That is what I said to myself this morning when I climbed out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror. I keep giving myself excuses for looking the way I do... I just had a baby 16 months ago, I have four children, my husband just deployed for a year, there is still beer in the fridge so I better drink it, that family size bag of Doritos is not going to eat itself, I talked to my mother-in-law today... I deserve a pint of ice cream!
So today is the day. Today is the day that I start taking care of myself... I hope.
After I dropped off Emma at gymnastics, I ran to Borders to find a book that would help me start taking care of myself. I thought for a brief second that I could have gone to the gym while she was at her class, or I could have even gone for a walk... but I had already showered and even put on make up so I didn't want to have to shower again and re-apply make up. This is going to have to be gradual... working out on my first day of self-loathing would only cause more self-loathing and sore muscles.
While at Borders I browsed the fitness section. I could get these extra 10 lbs off by belly dancing, line dancing, yoga, power yoga, Pilate's, lifting weights, running, walking, spinning, and even stripper pole-dancing. Blech... I want to shed these last few pounds but not that badly. The thought of lifting weights makes me want to barf and I have made it a life policy that I will only run if I am being chased by someone who is wearing a face mask and violently wielding a knife.
A friend of mine teaches Boot Camp here in our hometown. She tried to convince me to come, but I would have to wake up before Christ Himself and on the first day she makes you run a mile while she times you. That alone made me want to never speak to her again for the rest of my life. I could not imagine having to run a mile. First of all, my uterus would fall out and I would pee myself, not to mention the jiggling that would occur and the sheer embarrassment of it all. No thanks.
I picked up a book today that is the answer to my prayers. It is going to make me skinny I just know it! I opened the inside cover to Skinny Bitch and this is what I found:
Are you sick and tired of being fat? Good. If you can't take one more day of self-loathing, you're ready to get skinny. You don't need a degree in biology to get skinny. You don't need to starve yourself to get skinny. You don't need to spend all day at the gym to get skinny. You just need to smarten up and use your head. Really. It is that simple. We have been so brainwashed by fad diets, magazine articles, and advertising that we have forgotten how to think for ourselves.
Skinny Bitch delivers the truth about food, so that you can make intelligent and educated decisions for yourself. This knowledge will empower you to become a skinny bitch.
This is not a diet. This is a way of life. A way to enjoy food. A way to feel healthy, clean, energized and pure. It's time to reclaim your mind and body. It's time to strut your skinny ass down the street like you're in an episode of Charlie's Angels with some really cool song playing in the background. It's time to prance around in a thong like you rule the world. It's time to get skinny.
Boy I'll tell ya... that was exactly what I needed to hear! That was the pep talk of all pep talks. They had me hooked and at the cash register when they said I could prance around in a thong like I rule the world!
They are talking about footwear right? Anyway... wish me luck!
So today is the day. Today is the day that I start taking care of myself... I hope.
After I dropped off Emma at gymnastics, I ran to Borders to find a book that would help me start taking care of myself. I thought for a brief second that I could have gone to the gym while she was at her class, or I could have even gone for a walk... but I had already showered and even put on make up so I didn't want to have to shower again and re-apply make up. This is going to have to be gradual... working out on my first day of self-loathing would only cause more self-loathing and sore muscles.
While at Borders I browsed the fitness section. I could get these extra 10 lbs off by belly dancing, line dancing, yoga, power yoga, Pilate's, lifting weights, running, walking, spinning, and even stripper pole-dancing. Blech... I want to shed these last few pounds but not that badly. The thought of lifting weights makes me want to barf and I have made it a life policy that I will only run if I am being chased by someone who is wearing a face mask and violently wielding a knife.
A friend of mine teaches Boot Camp here in our hometown. She tried to convince me to come, but I would have to wake up before Christ Himself and on the first day she makes you run a mile while she times you. That alone made me want to never speak to her again for the rest of my life. I could not imagine having to run a mile. First of all, my uterus would fall out and I would pee myself, not to mention the jiggling that would occur and the sheer embarrassment of it all. No thanks.
I picked up a book today that is the answer to my prayers. It is going to make me skinny I just know it! I opened the inside cover to Skinny Bitch and this is what I found:
Are you sick and tired of being fat? Good. If you can't take one more day of self-loathing, you're ready to get skinny. You don't need a degree in biology to get skinny. You don't need to starve yourself to get skinny. You don't need to spend all day at the gym to get skinny. You just need to smarten up and use your head. Really. It is that simple. We have been so brainwashed by fad diets, magazine articles, and advertising that we have forgotten how to think for ourselves.
Skinny Bitch delivers the truth about food, so that you can make intelligent and educated decisions for yourself. This knowledge will empower you to become a skinny bitch.
This is not a diet. This is a way of life. A way to enjoy food. A way to feel healthy, clean, energized and pure. It's time to reclaim your mind and body. It's time to strut your skinny ass down the street like you're in an episode of Charlie's Angels with some really cool song playing in the background. It's time to prance around in a thong like you rule the world. It's time to get skinny.
Boy I'll tell ya... that was exactly what I needed to hear! That was the pep talk of all pep talks. They had me hooked and at the cash register when they said I could prance around in a thong like I rule the world!
They are talking about footwear right? Anyway... wish me luck!
9.08.2008
This May Be What Heaven Is Like...
Has anyone ever been to a Red Robin?
Yesterday was my first time and let me just say... I think I'm in love.
First of all... they had televisions everywhere playing football. Heaven.
Secondly... the burgers are the size of Rhode Island (I mean, it was as if I was holding Rhode Island with all of it's Rhode Islanders in my hands preparing to eat them all). People have told me in the past that I have a big mouth, but I think I may have sprained my jaw opening my mouth so big to eat the darn thing. I didn't even have one of the specialty burgers-like the one with the kitchen sink on top. I am a center line type of eater... I don't stray to far away from normal. Cheeseburger-yes, Cheeseburger with goat cheese, onion rings, confetti and frog legs-no.
Lastly... their fries come in a "bottomless basket." When the waiter told me that, I could have swore I heard my hips get wider and my butt add a few cellulite dents to it. These aren't your regular skinny, greasy fries either... these are steak fries, with a really yummy seasoning salt on top that cries out for you to throw your manners aside and suck on every last one of your fingers after each bite just to get every bit of salt that you can. Who cares about water gain... these are BOTTOMLESS FRIES!
After leaving I told the kids how much I loved of this place. I praised it as if Jesus himself were our waiter... and they give you a balloon when you leave!
Then I told them that we are NEVER coming back!
How Red Robin expects me to stay my normal 10lbs overweight is beyond me. If I made Red Robin a regular in our eating circle, I would be 50lbs. overweight by Christmas. The bottomless fries alone would cause me to have to ride around in a motorized cart at Target.
Oh the injustice of it all... when two lovers are forced to be separated for the greater good of humanity.
It Makes Me All Happy Inside...
That's right. We won. Uh-huh. So what if we lost 19 months ago to you Payton Manning... we won tonight. Uh-huh. Can you see my happy dance?
Mr. Manning... it looks like you need to stop eating so many Oreos.
Mr. Manning... it looks like you need to stop eating so many Oreos.
9.05.2008
Thems Fightin' Words...
I made the decision long ago when I started this blog that I would not talk politics. I know who I am going to vote for, I know who I believe will be the best leader for our country. This may not be the same person that you think is the best choice. Politics are something that I take very seriously... you never know, I may be Vice President one day.
Anyway... I have been standing by my decision to leave Politics off of my blog until I saw this:
"I'm not one of these fair weather fans,'' the junior senator from Illinois and presumptive presidential nominee of the Democratic Party explained. "You go to Wrigley Field, you have a beer, beautiful people up there. People aren't watching the game. It's not serious. White Sox, that's baseball. Southside."
That is Barack Obama talking about my beloved Cubbies, or rather, he was talking about ME as I am a Cubbie fan... in good times and bad. I go to the games to watch when they win and when they lose. I take it very seriously.
Too bad he is a Sox fan, I mean, I used to have a cousin that was a White Sox fan... we removed him from our family and he has not been heard of since (Irish Catholics don't fool around.)
One more thing... I think this White Sox fan throws like a wimp. My five-year old daughter can toss out a ball with more strength. My Grandma-a Cubbie's fan-could toss out a ball harder than him... and she is dead!
I'm just sayin'
But I'm not talking about Politics here, I am just mentioning a person who happens to be running for President. I am not discussing his policies, I am discussing his shortcomings as a White Sox fan.
Pitiful.
9.04.2008
Curse You Mother Nature...
It was a sad sad day yesterday. Aaron has baseball practice at the city park every Wednesday night. This park has everything to offer... baseball and softball fields, tennis courts, playgrounds, duck pond, swimming pool, go-cart course, bowling alley, skateboarding ramps, and yes... sand volleyball pits.
Every Wednesday when I drive by to take Aaron to play ball, there has always been a group of men playing on the sand volleyball pit. It is always hot so these guys all have their shirts off. I'm sorry, but I could not help but look... you would too!
I always forget that they will be there until I am pleasantly surprised each Wednesday when I turn the corner onto a little path and there they are, in all their glory, sweating and shirtless, playing volleyball. It is the little things in life that make me happy.
Well, yesterday was a little chilly and when I turned the corner I was not greeted by my usual Top Gun scenario. No, I was greeted by just a bunch of guys in sweatpants and t-shirts playing an ordinary game of sand volleyball. Big stinkin' deal.
I hope we get an Indian Summer this year-one that will bring warm breezes and pleasant sunshine. One that will force the men who are playing sand volleyball to remove their shirts and play the game the way God intended it to be played. That is all I ask.
Every Wednesday when I drive by to take Aaron to play ball, there has always been a group of men playing on the sand volleyball pit. It is always hot so these guys all have their shirts off. I'm sorry, but I could not help but look... you would too!
I always forget that they will be there until I am pleasantly surprised each Wednesday when I turn the corner onto a little path and there they are, in all their glory, sweating and shirtless, playing volleyball. It is the little things in life that make me happy.
Well, yesterday was a little chilly and when I turned the corner I was not greeted by my usual Top Gun scenario. No, I was greeted by just a bunch of guys in sweatpants and t-shirts playing an ordinary game of sand volleyball. Big stinkin' deal.
I hope we get an Indian Summer this year-one that will bring warm breezes and pleasant sunshine. One that will force the men who are playing sand volleyball to remove their shirts and play the game the way God intended it to be played. That is all I ask.
9.02.2008
Yo Quiero Taco Bell
Hope's Spanish teacher called this morning. It seems I have robbed my children of being able to ever succeed in the good ol' USofA. I did not teach my daughter Spanish... I taught her Latin.
She is 3 years behind her peers in her Spanish class. Her Spanish teacher says that she needs to catch up or she will have a really hard time once she gets into high school.
I tried to get a few brownie points for Hope by pointing out that her father is half Puerto Rican, making Hope a Quarter Rican... but the Spanish teacher did not think I was funny.
Please respond in Spanish only for your comments. I am taking the cold turkey approach to learning Spanish. grassy ass.
She is 3 years behind her peers in her Spanish class. Her Spanish teacher says that she needs to catch up or she will have a really hard time once she gets into high school.
I tried to get a few brownie points for Hope by pointing out that her father is half Puerto Rican, making Hope a Quarter Rican... but the Spanish teacher did not think I was funny.
Please respond in Spanish only for your comments. I am taking the cold turkey approach to learning Spanish. grassy ass.
9.01.2008
Where For Art Thou Romeo?
This really does suck you know. Sure, sure, I am supposed to be the strong military wife that we all like to imagine. The one who can handle everything that comes her way while her better half is on the other side of the world. Sounds romantic doesn't it? The strong wife keeping things afloat at home while her soldier is fighting for those less fortunate? Well... it isn't.
Today was a bad day. The kids are making me go crazy. Seriously... crazy. The older two cannot say a kind word to one another if you paid them. If she says the sky is blue he says it is a aqua hue. If he says he brushed his teeth, she pretends to pass out from the smell of his breath. If she says that she needs another bottle of acne cream, he falls over laughing and pointing at her. I was tempted to put duct tape over their mouths earlier... I would have too if I could have found the duct tape, but all I could find was Hello Kitty band-aids. They weren't even waterproof.
The 5 year old has decided to be a dog for the past few days... a dog that has just had a litter of puppies and is lactating. That is right. She lays on her side and "attaches" little stuffed puppies to her tummy and says she is feeding them. She also pretends to go potty outside when I let the "real" dog in the house out. What are the neighbors thinking? At least she isn't barking at people. My friend's daughter used to bark at me when I would say hello to her. "Hi Susie, how are you today?" "Ruff Ruff" "Nice dog Susie."
The baby is teething, which means she has a runny nose and slobbers all over everything she is wearing. I can't really complain about her though because she is a baby and that trumps anything bad that can be going on. One look at her and I melt-thank God for babies.
It does not help that I feel so disconnected from my husband. 15-20 minute phone calls every other day are just not hacking it. I mean, I am a woman who likes to speak her 25,000 allotted words a day and now I have no one to listen to my theories on why I think Angelina Jolie eats only cottage cheese and laxatives and how the speed limit should be raised 10 mph if you have to go to the bathroom really bad. I cornered the mailman the other day and started telling him a story about unclogging my son's toilet until I realized he was slowly backing away from me and trying to slide into his little square mailman car.
We have tried to IM (that is "instant message" for all of you readers out there who only come on-line to read my blog and check the weather) but he will be knocked off -line every 30 seconds or so and after I have written a small novel about life out here I will realize that it is all one-sided and he hasn't gotten any of it.
So if I start writing blogs about the water bill or what I am going to cook for dinner, just understand it is because I am in need of an outlet other than BBC's "You Are What You Eat."
I miss my husband... not just because it is lonely at night, but because I don't have anyone to listen to me talk. Oh, and because he used to hang up all of the clothes that I throw on the floor of our closet and now I can't even see the floor and I have nothing to wear. It would be nice to have the bathroom trash emptied as well... and my bedside table lamp light bulb has burned out and now I have to turn the bright 100W overhead light on... and my van needs gas.
*Big Sigh*
Today was a bad day. The kids are making me go crazy. Seriously... crazy. The older two cannot say a kind word to one another if you paid them. If she says the sky is blue he says it is a aqua hue. If he says he brushed his teeth, she pretends to pass out from the smell of his breath. If she says that she needs another bottle of acne cream, he falls over laughing and pointing at her. I was tempted to put duct tape over their mouths earlier... I would have too if I could have found the duct tape, but all I could find was Hello Kitty band-aids. They weren't even waterproof.
The 5 year old has decided to be a dog for the past few days... a dog that has just had a litter of puppies and is lactating. That is right. She lays on her side and "attaches" little stuffed puppies to her tummy and says she is feeding them. She also pretends to go potty outside when I let the "real" dog in the house out. What are the neighbors thinking? At least she isn't barking at people. My friend's daughter used to bark at me when I would say hello to her. "Hi Susie, how are you today?" "Ruff Ruff" "Nice dog Susie."
The baby is teething, which means she has a runny nose and slobbers all over everything she is wearing. I can't really complain about her though because she is a baby and that trumps anything bad that can be going on. One look at her and I melt-thank God for babies.
It does not help that I feel so disconnected from my husband. 15-20 minute phone calls every other day are just not hacking it. I mean, I am a woman who likes to speak her 25,000 allotted words a day and now I have no one to listen to my theories on why I think Angelina Jolie eats only cottage cheese and laxatives and how the speed limit should be raised 10 mph if you have to go to the bathroom really bad. I cornered the mailman the other day and started telling him a story about unclogging my son's toilet until I realized he was slowly backing away from me and trying to slide into his little square mailman car.
We have tried to IM (that is "instant message" for all of you readers out there who only come on-line to read my blog and check the weather) but he will be knocked off -line every 30 seconds or so and after I have written a small novel about life out here I will realize that it is all one-sided and he hasn't gotten any of it.
So if I start writing blogs about the water bill or what I am going to cook for dinner, just understand it is because I am in need of an outlet other than BBC's "You Are What You Eat."
I miss my husband... not just because it is lonely at night, but because I don't have anyone to listen to me talk. Oh, and because he used to hang up all of the clothes that I throw on the floor of our closet and now I can't even see the floor and I have nothing to wear. It would be nice to have the bathroom trash emptied as well... and my bedside table lamp light bulb has burned out and now I have to turn the bright 100W overhead light on... and my van needs gas.
*Big Sigh*
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