Mom Hates You More…

You remember the first time your kid asked you for a scoop of “ice dream” because they didn’t know the word was ‘cream’?

Rember how you thought that was the cutest fucking thing ever?

Or how about “smashed ‘tatas”  for mashed potatoes?

Well every family has some cute little thing like that.

Some cute little phrase, some cute little word mess up that a kid in their family has said that just sticks for awhile.  And what happens is the next time ice cream is being scooped you find yourself yelling to family members “hey, you want some ice dream” and it just fucking sticks for awhile! Until everyone in the house is calling it ice dream.

My Seester has 6 kids so we’ve got a few phrases that aren’t really mess-ups but just phrases they have mimicked. Like Nephew #1 when he was like 5 was asked by me if he liked something and his response in the most polite tone was “not so much.” Very diplomatic kid even at 5. It stuck in our family.  “Not so much.”

Once I came in from NC. I lived alone and had no kids so upon entering my seester’s house that had 3 kids. under the age of 8 I walked through shoving toys with my shoe saying “this place is a fucking mess.” The oldest looked up with a look of “don’t call my stuff a mess”, the middle complete in a fairy tutu and tight curls repeated with a snarl “yeah, a fucking mess” and the nephew I just spoke  of looked at his mom wide eyed and grinned. That one repeated phrase set the tone for my relationship with each of them, oddly enough!  And to this day “Look at this fucking mess” is a phrase giggled about between me and my seester.

As you read this you have thought of the thing your child messed up. the song they sang wrong or the cuss word they repeated.

Well, Angel Face is no different.

Angel Face, not matter how much we tried never could get “See ya later, Alligator. After while, Crocodile.”

Whenever I would say “See ya later, Alligator’

He would say, “See ya later, Crocodile”

And I found this funny as shit!! I mean like it would make me roll! It literally made my fucking day! It just gave me the fucking giggles. I mean, like slap my forehead funny.

Sure, when he was like 3ish, 4ish I told him how it went..but then was just like “fuck it!”

But then the saddest day of my life happened.

Thursday Angel Face gets out of the car for school and I say “See ya later, Alligator”

And he said “After while, Crocodile” …and he got out of the car and he slammed the door and he walked up to the gate and he never fucking knew he broke my heart.

And I cried ….like a motherfucker.

So last night I went to see Ron White in Dallas at the Mystique Theater. He did four sold out shows.

It was packed!

And because it had southern women at this event there was big hair,  big cleavage, big heels and big egos.

I went with The Seester and her oldest son and we had no sooner gotten off the parking lot and crossed the street–I shit you not curb to curb–than a chick came up the adjoining street in fucking toothpick stilts and a tube dress that started at her nipples and ended at what once held her pubic hair! 

It was a good night for people watching to say the least!

But I ain’t hatin’!

In fact, The Seester and I had a semi debate about this in the wrap around the building line. She was all “when you see a young, tan, slim, girl, smiling on a date don’t ya just think “happy!”?  I said when I see a young, tan, slim, girl on a date I don’t think much of anything. My point to the argument was my seester seems to focus a bit too  much on the young, slim, tan and smiling. Most of the time I tend to watch the expressions, the exasperations, the fidget.

For example, IF I notice anyone outside my circle I might notice if a guy is walking a normal pace meanwhile his date that he may be almost dragging is in 10 inch heels on a cracked and broken sidewalk.  It sorta instantly tells me two things: 1) she needs to learn to pinch the shit out of him (please see wounds on Lifemate’s inner arm) to make him slow down and 2)she hasn’t clued in yet that he’s not gonna clue in to slow down without some physical pain to trigger that response. You drag me, I pinch the living shit out of you–see how that works?  We clear?

That’s the kinda things I get a kick out of when people watching.

 And I love to see bitches out who love each other. Those are my favorite! Bitches that you hope to fuck aren’t sitting behind you but are happy as hell them kids are with somebody else and they been drinking Southern Comfort on the drive over! They left men at home or left ‘em a long damn time ago in divorce court and they don’t want yours! They got a babysitter, they saved up some money, they bought a pack of cigarettes just for the night and they got a little bit of a buzz and by the end of the night somebody is gonna half whisper half yell “I’m so drunk” and bust out laughing! Don’t get me wrong. These are NOT the bitches you want sitting anywhere in your area. In fact, these are the same bitches that if they do end up sitting anywhere near you, you spend the whole night sighing about and looking back at because you just hate them so much. They are loud. They laugh too much. They cut up. Couple of them are usually fat. One of them won’t be able to turn her phone off, she won’t know how. They will have one young one in the bunch, she’s the token young, cute one. These are the happy ones to me.

The Seester thinks those young, slim, tan ones are the happy ones. I think the obnoxious bitches are the ones that are happy.

But last night I saw something that I want to share with you.

I’m standing in the bathroom with The Seester and of coursee there is a line. The line makes a funky horseshoe square thing. So that I can see the two women standing on the outside points of the U. I’m standing at the bottom of that U. There is a lady at the upper right in a short black mini skirt, strappy sandals, full make-up, long black hair,  she looks nice. She is talking to the lady standing with her. On the opposite side of the U is a young girl in a baby doll cream mini shirt dress with bows at the shoulder, with flowers, the only make-up the young Snow White has on is the natural beauty of her skin, the natural flush of her cheeks and the hint of mascara on her thick lashes. She is cute as a button. Now how this bathroom works is women are coming out of stalls and walking straight back out down the top of this U passing both of those women and several of us down in the crook of the U as they leave.

A lady comes around the U to exit and I have to say she was kinda startling. Why? Hmm…how do I put this….Because she looked like a fucking man that’s why! Ok! There I said it!  This woman was not only tall, she had some pretty manly features and her hair had a curly wave which she had attempted to just comb down and that didn’t help and ….well frankly it was just a fucking mess really. I mean she sorta bent to lessen her height but she was still so tall. And when you wear a size 13 shoe it is hard not to look like a man in a high heel! Anyway, so there is a delay as she is throwing away her papertowel and she is right at that U with the lady in black before she goes ahead and walks out and leaves.

Here’s the crazy part.

This woman in black sorta drops her jaw and turns to her friend and sorta gafaws (the woman is gone by now). Now this U is so big there is no hearing what is being said but for a second or maybe more since I could’t hear obviously Black MiniSkirt “disapproved” of the looks of  the less attractive woman.

Now this pissed me off. I have been the young and attractive, I have been the fat and cute, and I am the aging. I am not doing it well! I have always been funny as fuck though and I’ve always been smart. So when I see this it fucking pisses me off because I know what meek looks like and the lady that just left was meek but I made eye contact with her and she smiled and that’s always a sign of “raised right.” So when I see this it makes my heart race a bit and I turn to look away and bite my lower lip and in the process I encounter the face of the Snow White in the opposite side of the U who is looking dead at Black MiniSkirt. She is cold staring at her in the most hateful face I have ever seen. This pretty young girl in the baby doll dress looks like she could puke on Black MiniSkirt.

And it made me go from being angry to all doey and smiling…I felt really fucking good about our up and coming no-bullies generation!

But here is the best fucking part…you aren’t gonna believe this shit. I was all ready to just let it go. I told Seester and she was all “nu-uh” and we went into stalls and it was soon forgotten. No big deal.  But then..then then then….it just goes to show that if you live in a glass house you better keep stock on your windex, bitches!

So oddly after the line moves I end up waiting on The Seester and who do I end up standing close to but Fucking Black MiniSkirt. I give her a look up and down and guess what?

Close up..she’s way too old to be judgy.

And

Out the side of her super strappy high heel sandals was a big ol’ BONE BUNION!  Not like I got a little dry skin right there..but ya know where pinky toe meets foot that bone…her bone stuck out enough to trip someone. Like her strappy sandal had ganged way to LET. IT. OUT!

I had to bite my lip and look away to keep from laughing like a crazy person standing there by myself!!

I wanted to take a picture of it but really it was the only thing down there….if i had gotten a pic of it she would have known I was taking a pic of her Bunion Bone.

Stupid Fucking Woman. Going to make a face at a manly woman when her shoe was doing this Tim Norton-style dip and stretch around her bone!

Oh and by the way…to the loud ass bitches sitting behind me —glad ya’ll were able to find sitters!  And I hope Dawn was able to find her lighter after she dropped her phone and emptied her purse. And I hate ya’ll for talking and being loud the whole show…but love ya’ll more than most! Holla!

It has been a very long time since I posted because in the b&b business oddly enough Christmas is a crazy time of year. I guess people get to shopping and lose they damn minds! Seriously, every weekend from October to the end of the year my b&b is slammed. Even during the week I am packed with guests “getting away.” Americans have entitlement issues. They start spending money on others that they don’t really like…in-laws, co-workers, teachers, that lady in their Sunday school class…and next thing ya know they are booking a room saying things to themselves like “I’m spending all this money on other people I DESERVE something for myself!”

I love that phrase.  It keeps me in business! I deserve something for myself.

Ya’ll say it with me.

I deserve something for myself.

Hey! I’m not judging! Most people put up with a lot of shit. Husbands, kids, boss, traffic, in-laws, co-workers–drama, drama, drama.  They DO deserve it! 

So from October to New Year’s I’m working my ass off around here. Plus, I got my own shopping and shit to do!

So let’s talk about the shopping this year.  For those of you that followed this tragic tale on Facebook go do something else but for those of you who missed the play by play let me tell you about the cluster fuck we’ll call Christmas 2011!

Ok, so Angel Face, my then 5 yr old baby (he turned 6 in January). My only son. Bluest eyes like the sky. Heart of purest gold. Comes to me with his Santa Book.

Back Story Here

Angel Face has a Hallmark Santa’s Magic Pen Book. Basically it is a storybook that comes with a pen. The story is how this pen is carved by an elf at the North Pole from the branch of the Christmas Tree and it has magic! When you write with this pen your letter automatically shows up in Santa’s Official Record Book!  And at the back of the book it has blank pages for you to write your letter to Santa.

Ok, so now that Angel Face is in school and can write he brings out the book this year and is oh so proud because THIS is the THE year he is going to not just sign his name on his own, he is going to write the letter to Santa by himself! He is very proud.

Now, I should also tell you that we have a rule in this house. Angel Face can only ask Santa for one item.

Why?

Because that fat bastard isn’t getting credit for shit I buy that’s why! 

It also cuts down on that bullshit where a kid brings you that crazyass Santa list of shit they really are hanging all their hopes and dreams that “Santa” brings them on Christmas morning and it is five pages long!! You know the one! Yeah, THAT list!

I don’t ever want that list.  So we have had the “Santa has so many kids to make toys for you need to pick ONE very special toy that you really want to ask him for” talk.  Now, of course he has asked me “What about those other kids who asked for more than one toy?”  I told him the truth.

“Those kids are greedy, baby”

 So he brings me his book all ready and excited to write down what he wants.

Now before he puts ink to paper ya know ..um, sealing MY fate to find this toy…I ask him casually what he is asking Santa for this year.  As he flips open the book, pen in hand ready to write he says “I saw it on YouTube!! I’m gonna tell him to bring it to my house!”

I lean across the island and say “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Hold on!” 

After jacking the magic pen, ushering him to a computer it is discovered he wants a Steaming Thomas.

This motherfucking toy is a 60th Anniversary Celebration Toy that is now out of circulation. There are two versions. One with a water tower (that dribbles all over the floor apparently! so not many of those left around) and one without the water tower. He of course wants the one with the water tower! Ok, for those of you who know a thing or two about Thomas the Tank Engine this fucker runs on blue track. BLUE track!  For those of you who don’t know shit about Thomas the Tank Engine BLUE track is a good decade back!  You have to by a converter kit to make your blue track hook to your track that is sold today. So this little fucker runs on blue track–that’s how old he is! 

Angel Face shows me video after video from all over the world that he has watched of kids playing with their Steaming Thomas! He is in love. It steams like a real engine! There is a red LED light in the funnel so that when it steams it glows. It whistles too! His blue paints has a glittery tint to it too. This Thomas is special from buffer to buffer. It is his Christmas wish.  So naturally since he is an only child it becomes my mission to make his precious heart glow.

So I do what I always do in a situation like this. I tell LifeMate to handle it. I explain to him that I have handled all the other gifts for the birthdays and Christmas. I make myself very clear that he must handle his mother’s gift because I don’t like her and I’m not handling it, his son’s gift from Santa and probably the manly gift that will be needed for my stepfather. Three gifts! THREE! I have my sister, her 6 kids, my mother, my dad, LifeMate, all of AngelFace’s other gifts, teacher, friends and the six birthday we have thrown in the mix. I give him THREE!

Yeah, I’m kinda bitter about that, sorry. I’ll let it go. Where was I? So I give him this task. Find Steaming Thomas! I tell Angel Face to “Hold off on writing Santa until I talk to the elves because ya just never know if they can find the old instructions on how to make a toy that old. If they can’t find the instructions they can’t make it and you don’t want to ask for it if they can’t make it!”

So LifeMate reports back that he can find them but they are expensive. I take this as a “yes” and tell Angel Face to write his letter.  LifeMate in late November says he has found a Steaming Thomas! Dec 17th it arrives!

Dec 17. As in this close to Christmas. As in no time for a fuck up.

We wait for Angel Face to go to bed and we set this bad boy up. We put the water in the tower. We make the track loop around the table. There are guests here and they are standing around just as eager to see what this thing is going to do.

Now because it is an old toy it came with everything but instructions but that was no big deal because I have a man in the house he just put the shit together with no instructions. And of course the shit didn’t work.

So I pull out my iPad and find some instructions online posted from a parent that says “toy is hard to make work even when following instructions.” Gee, that’s promising!  So we get it turned on, we determine LifeMate put water in the wrong hole put we also determine this motherfucking toy isn’t lighting up, isn’t making sound and most importantly isn’t steaming.

LifeMate says, “Maybe it needs to warms up”

As we watch this thing go around the track another loop I say “It’s broken” and walk away. I know it is broken not because I am a genius but because I have the patience of a 5 yr old. A toy maker does not make a toy that has to run around a track 15 times to “warm up” to make steam. A toymaker knows the motherfucker better make steam in less than 5 seconds! On the box it says it is a toy for 4 yrs and up! Yep, it should make steam in at least that many seconds! It is the toymaker rule and every mama knows it and if your toy doesn’t do it you will get a phone call on your 800 line from an angry woman with a screaming kid in the background.

Now the first question I ask LifeMate is “Did you ask the seller if it worked” to which he says “yes.”

So I go to look at the emails on eBay.

See as someone who has been burned on eBay I don’t dick with those people on eBay anymore. My legal background causes me to damn near depose a seller before bidding on an item. Seriously, I almost send them twenty pages of  interrogatories covering every possible scenario on the condition of the item and possible reasons for return before buying or bidding. So when I bring up LifeMates account and determine that the seller may very well have spoken English as a second language and all she agreed to was that it worked I do what any parent does in crisis at Christmas –I turned on his ass like a pitbull!!

 I proceed to ask him why he believed he was so special as to get an item that usually sold for near or over 100 dollars ..why he was able to obtain it for a mere $10!! I ranted why he assumed the word “worked” would include ran on track, whistles, glowed with red, and steamed when he didn’t specifically ask any of those goddamn questions!!  And of course, because I am above all else a female as I stomped off muttered something about giving him ONE thing to do and he fucked that up!  And because I am a female and can’t let anything be over on my way back through told him that this was the only thing that baby had asked for and he better fucking fix it!!  

Ok, I know he didn’t do it on purpose and I know yelling didn’t fix it at 11 at night but fuck you, no one was getting that toy for 10 bucks! I will cuss you out too if you challenge me on this! Its like ordering a fucking Coach bag from China for $15 and being shocked that it isn’t real!

Now, contact is made with Steaming Thomas Seller #1 and she was so shocked to hear it didn’t steam and she refunded the money minus shipping of course and we just kept the broken engine.

We immediately find another dealer in California that has one. Again it is on eBay as this is the only place you can get them. The guy says it works fully! Yes, they can “expedited” shipping.

Steaming Thomas #2 is on his way! We leave town to go to the Polar Express.  We come back thinking this new little blue bastard should be sitting on our porch.

It. Is. Not!

We start emailing. Checking. Tracking number looking.

Wait for it.

The goddamn fucking tracking number they emailed us with our bill receipt. The one that cost us the additional shitload of money? Yea, that one! The one that just said “expedited shipping tracking number” next to it. That tracking number is not a UPS number it is actually a motherfucking USPS number for PRIORITY MAIL …from CALIFORNIA.  It is now December 23 and there is no gift from Santa.  We start looking around online and even if we overnight another Steaming Thomas no overnight company will guarnatee delivery on Christmas Day. We Are Screwed.

So naturally at this point I do what any woman would do. I call my sister almost in tears because Christmas is going to be ruined!

I mean try to forget the fact that his spoiled little ass has 300 dollars worth of gifts stacked up in the closet! I mean go along with this Tiny Tim version where this is the ONLY gift he gets.

So we get Steaming Thomas #1 out and rip this sucker apart. LifeMate is instructed to make this motherfucker steam even if we have to shove dry ice up its ass! All it has to do is steam for one loop around the track and then we’ll take the battery out we’ll do something! Just make it steam so Santa can live!   Off LifeMate goes to Lowe’s, Radioshack, the Moon, Hell and back, looking for the smallest damn wires you have ever seen in your life to make this thing reconnect to steam. See, that is why he won’t work. He has broken wire. Teeny tiny wire. Wire that you can’t find in my town or in the three neighboring ones. Trust me on this.

Christmas Eve comes and goes. Mailman comes and goes. No box. No new Steaming Thomas #2. So much for priority mail motherfuckers. Expedited shipping my ass.

We get all these wonderful suggestions to have Santa leave a note and that’s what we decide to do.

We put Angel Face to bed and are in the kitchen picking out a font and stationary for Santa when I hear “Mama, come quickly”

Angel Face had been jacking with a loose tooth and finally gotten the fucker out! So now on Christmas Eve we get to do Santa and the Tooth Fairy.

Now, let me tell you a little story about the Tooth Fairy at my house. We don’t like the Tooth Fairy at my house. When Angel Face was 4 he fell into the dining room table and pushed his top front teeth back parallel to the roof of his mouth. This involved an ER visit. The teeth were left that way overnight and then the next day while on nothing but laughing gas they were pulled out. He was not happy about his teeth being taken out!  In fact, he was down right pissed. We explained the Tooth Fairy to him and thought he understood. He had a book called Moose’s Loose Tooth that talked about the tooth fairy and getting money but in the book elephant swallows the tooth. So Angel Face never quite got that the Tooth Fairy takes the tooth and you get the money. So when we did the tooth fairy thing the next morning he was hacked!  He pitched a teetotalfuckingfit!  He yelled and cried “you call that Tooth Fairy and you tell her I don’t want this quarter! You tell her to bring me back my teeth!” Yeah, it was ugly! He would dream his teeth had grown back and would wake up and cry when he realized they were still gone. It was pretty traumatic.

So when this holiday season he started getting a loose tooth naturally and we talked about him actually loosing his tooth the right way he promptly told me “I’m not giving it to that damn Tooth Fairy. You tell her to leave me the tooth and the quarter!”

Well alrighty!

So on Christmas Eve when he lost it all I could think was “Great! He is going to be even harder to go get to sleep because he’s got this anxiety about this tooth stealing bitch lurking around his room!”

But then it all came together…..

Betweeen the Tooth Fairy and Santa …Santa wins. And that is in ANY house. But in MY house, we already think the Tooth Fairy is a bitch! Sooooo

We decided to write a letter from the Tooth Fairy that basically said she was sorry that she came in after Santa had been there and tripped over Steaming Thomas and broke him. She called Santa to try to fix him but he couldn’t.

Then we had Santa leave a note saying he had gotten a call from the Tooth Fairy and he had hurried back but he couldn’t fix it but that he would have the elves send another one right away! And that he couldn’t believe how clumsy the Tooth Fairy was!

Don’t you just hate the Tooth Fairy for putting Santa out like that? Yeah, we do too! She is such a druken whore! She was probably giggly and pawing all over Santa asking if she could “make it up to him.” She is such a slut. Her tutu is probably half in her panties most of the time too! Toy breaker!

Now you’d think Steaming Thomas #2 came in and we all lived happily ever after right? Well fuckity fuck no!

Steaming Thomas #2 comes in. He is all batteried up, watered and running. He makes about 2 loops around the track and he starts clicking every time he hits a curve. Click. Click. Click. Click. Every corner of the oval. Until finally on about the 4th lap. He won’t run. 

You have got to be fucking shittin’ me!

Nope! It steams, but won’t move on corners!

So we contact the seller and explain “Look motherfucker it went around the track about 4 times and stopped moving!  We want our money back.”  And of course it is always MINUS SHIPPING. So now we are out the “expedited shipping’ and the return shipping if we send it back. The seller wants to know how much we are willing to pay to just keep the broken product. So we get a refund for all of the money minus return shipping.

So let me break this down for you.

Steaming Thomas #1  Runs but won’t steam……………….$15

Steaming Thomas #2 Steams but won’t run………………..$20

At this point I approach Angel Face who is standing at the table when Steaming Thomas #2 takes his final lap and he says “We need to call Santa!”  I approach my blue-eyed angel and very softly, gently, softly say “ya know, you could always maybe possibly ..now would be a good time to maybe say you want something else”

I no more got the words out than his bottom lip started quivering and he got muppet face. You know muppet face! The entire chin section looked as if it could be removed in a section of its own!  He didn’t even have to finish his own sentence of “but I don’t want anything else” before I was leaving the room saying “I’ll call Santa..got it covered..”

At which point I was yelling to LifeMate to get his ass back on the goddamn computer and find another one of this fuckers!

Which he did.

Because we are idiots.

And because we don’t know how to just tell our only child to suck it up.

And because we have issues leftover from being told no over and over from our own parents so we constantly make up for it in our own parenting ..it is utterly disgusting to watch. Seriously, just turn your head if you see us in public.

Steaming Thomas #3.  LifeMate finds it. Has to explain to the lady how to make it run, steam, whistle and light up but she tests it completely and it works and we get it and it is all he has ever wanted. It is amazing.

It really fucking is. We set it up and it is a bad motherfucker.

We tell Angel Face to go put it in his room and we’ll build the layout over the weekend.

So we puts it in his room and he goes to school.

The next day his friend drops by. They are playing in his room. We are talking to her parent.

Now all of his trains have an engine and a coach. All of them usually twist to disconnect engine from coach. But with Steaming Thomas he needs his coach to steam. That is how they are wired So even though all the other engines and coaches in his room come apart the Steaming Thomas does not. Well his friend sees him twisting the trains apart and she picks up the one closest to her to play with…..that’s right….she picks up Steaming Thomas

Twist…and …Pull…

I wanted to cry when he brought Steaming Thomas out in two pieces. I mean I felt a little lightheaded. My vision blurred. I had to grab the table to keep my balance. He handed the toy to me and I do belve he skipped off saying something about “its ok, accidents happen.” I have never wanted to slap the shit out of him more in my entire life.

I mean, I have never been so proud of how he handled a situation more. Yeah, proud. That’s what I was. Dizzy and proud. And gripping the side of the table and in the process of putting my head between my legs because I thought I was going to faint!

Ok, so I didn’t think I was going to pass out but I did almost say “what the fuck!!?” in front of a very nice parent!

 Hadn’t even had that motherfucking toy 24 hours and it was broken!

The gift that we had struggled over. The gift that had taken weeks and weeks and cash and cash to get right. The gift that I was pretty sure was going to have me muttering in the hallway of a nursing home during my golden years. It was now in two pieces.  Thomas in my right hand. Steaming part in my left.  As I looked down at his little blue engine and smiling white face I wanted to squeeze …hard ..until its eyes bugged out!

After Angel Face’s friend left and LifeMate and I stood there holding the pieces of Steaming Thomas #3 we both agreed on several things:

A) 6 yrs old was not what they meant by legal late term abortion

B) AngelFace was no longer allowed to watch YouTube videos

C) if AngelFace couldn’t find it in a store or catalog he could not ask Santa for it

D) We hate Steaming Thomas so much it is unhealthy

Now you want to hear the good news? Angel Face was in his room playing two days ago and turns on what we think is Steaming Thomas #2 the one that won’t do anything but go straight. Remember the one that has clicking issues and stopped working whenever it encountered a curve or hill? Well he turns it on and it is working! Working great! Steaming! Whistling! Red light glowing!

That’s because at some point Angel Face switched the location of the trains so the Thomas #2 was the one that got snapped in half! NOT Thomas #3!!!

Merry fucking Christmas!

I know right?!  All that shit over a toy! But he was so happy. Still is! The whole time I’ve worked on this, played on Facebook, played Words with Friends, watched TV, read, talked on the phone, texted, and in cooked, Angel Face has played with his trains. Steaming Thomas included. He is one happy boy. He is happy because he has parents that are suckers.  

The truly awful part to this story is I will remember it forever. I will turn to this boy one day and say “Do you remember that Christmas you had to have Steaming Thomas?” And he will have a puzzled look. And I will try to jog his memory and say “You remember it was a little engine that you put water in… it would make steam as it went around a blue track, red light, whistled. The Tooth Fairy tripped over it? Santa letter? ring a bell? We got a second one in? It didn’t work? Little friend broke it? Nothing?” And he will shrug and shake his head and give me that wide-eyed “I have no idea” look. And it will be at that moment …that very moment when it will happen. Something in me will just snap. It will be a blood bath. An entire family will be lost. LifeMate. Angel Face. The cats. The postman. Squirrels. Random car I stop at the end of the street. The first officer on the scene who thinks he can take me he’ll be a goner. E-Z Mart clerk. The whole time I’ll just be cussing about a Steaming Thomas as I beat everything to death. Tragic really. 

Wait until you hear about the stunt LifeMate’s fucking mama pulled at Angel Face’s birthday…..oh you just wait!  You think Steaming Thomas made me homicidal….you just wait until you hear what this crazy bitch pulled at the baby’s birthday! Oh Sweet Jesus. I’m going to Granny dump her! I swear!

Granny dumping is when you take an elderly person who doesn’t know who they are anymore and you take all their identification (making them a Jane Doe) and you take them across state lines and you drop them off in a public place like a mall or hospital. Dumping them. If they have no criminal record they can’t be identified. Granny Dumping.

See my blog is educational too!

There is a song by Gary Allen called Devil’s Candy. Now the song is about women and whiskey and how he has fought it all his life but the battle’s never won. He’s a trooper though. He fights the good fight everyday against the devil’s candy. The song is sorta tongue in cheek because the way he sings it, it does not lend one to believe he is trying very hard.

Lately –and I blame Oprah and Dr.Phil — there is a lot of talk about taking high roads, only worrying about yourself, not gossiping, sending out positive energy and a lot of “how’s that working out for ya?” talk.  Lots of talk about staying away from drama and negativity, ie. devil’s candy.

See, the thought is, if you have a lot of drama in your life then you need to look in the mirror because, baby girl, you may be bringing it on yourself!

Know what I say to that?

Fuck-you!

I don’t go to the clubs. I don’t hang in the streets. I stay at home – in my kitchen - running my business. My phone will ring and someone will tell me something about someone else! I’d have to turn my phone off –which I can’t do because my baby daddy might call! Or baby might get sick at school! I can’t turn my phone off, so there it sits. And it rings. And when it rings there is usually something crazy on it!

What was that? Don’t pick it up?

Oh well allow me to retort.

I have to pick it up because otherwise folks around here will just “stop by”!!

See, I want to take the high road, I do, but even my high road is a little ditch-y-ish because I cuss. So even when I say, “I don’t care what she/he says about me” it comes out “I don’t give a rat’s ass what that motherfucker says”. See? Ditch-y-ish!

So when the average person would say to someone “Now, John Doe, I do believe you are complaining about something that doesn’t concern you. Please refrain and mind your own business,” it comes out “Stop being such a whining ass cry baby and back the fuck off, ya douchebag!”

See?

I can’t help it y’all! And really I don’t even try.

I mean I’m not one of these people that say “fuck you” all in someone’s face and hostile and poking ‘em on the chest. I’m more of a “whatever, fuck off” kinda person. And I honestly mean it! If you have ever gotten a “fuck off” from me it was the most sincerest form of “go forth with your life and do what you wish” …just shorter.

Now does that mean when I call Two Step a “douchebag” I mean something else? No, not at all..he’s a douchebag. But I don’t say it with a black heart. I say it like I’d say “he’s a Republican.”  It may have some inflection in my voice when I’m amazed how big of a douchebag he is being, but the act of calling him a douchebag isn’t me talking trash about him, it is just me calling him what I think he is.  I’m sure his mother thinks he is a fine person. I’m not his mother.

And I’m not crazy, I know this door swings both ways. I live in a very snarky town. They may not cuss like I do, but they are snarky. Remember how in the 80s everything was about labels and money and all the girls wanted to act like Molly Ringwald in the Breakfast Club and all the boys thought acting like James Spader in Pretty in Pink, rocked! Well they all grew up and moved to my town! Except they are all too old for the reference!  So when they call me names and talk bad about me, I don’t care. Seriously. It may cause me to go “fuckers” upon hearing it but then I got shit to do. I don’t have a Phone Tree of friends to say “Girl, you’re not going to believe this” too. The next time I talk to my sister I’ll tell her. My friend in NC will help me come up with a rap about it. But all in all I got a little one in my house. Angel Face could give a shit less about my problems, or who is gossiping about me or who has upset me. He needs me to shut the hell up about whatever it is I’m bitching about and make him some hot tea and help him with his handwriting.

I’m telling you if you got a little one in your house and you are doing their age right..you don’t have time for anything except the occassional rant of “that guy is a fucked up mother fucker, I’d like to…”

and then you get to go pick playdough outta the carpet.

There is that saying that if a person had more to do they wouldn’t have time to gossip and that is true! That’s why if you find yourself on the phone 2-3 times a night telling 2-3 people the same story about a girl at work I am offering up my little one to come over and hang out with ya from about 5:15 until 9.

What’s that you say? Why not take the high road and not gossip and just send out positive energy and meditate and maybe learn a second language in my spare time and on weekends feed the homeless?

Don’t be a douche! No one has time for that! But excuse me while I take this phone call!

About a week ago I get a call from a woman wanting to book a room.
Easy enough.
She says, “Me and my friend want to come to your b&b”
Ok.
So I tell her the names of the three rooms I have left.
She then says she doesn’t know which room she wants.
So I say, “Not to get all in your business but is your friend your boyfriend or is it really just a friend because one of the rooms I have left is a two-bedroom suite?”

Well that one question got me more info than I ever wanted!

This woman starts telling me how this guy is more than a friend but they aren’t having sex because her husband is the only man she had ever been with and she’s not going to be doing anything like that and he knows it because like, they don’t even kiss on the mouth.

So, I said maybe the 2-bedroom suite would work better.

Because otherwise she’s gonna be sleeping with a hard-on pressed up against her ass all night.

No I didn’t say that last part!

Anyway she says the king bedroom was fine.

Well they got here this weekend and this hot body, long legged blonde comes walking into my house. By the way this is the part where I tell you she’s a volleyball player! Tan, long, lean, blonde and a body being utterly fucking wasted!

Victoria Secrets was made for this woman and upon arrival with her cute blonde “boyfriend” they decide to go with the 2-bedroom suite!

At check out they both said they were closer than ever and the second bed had not been touched. But don’t get all happy because she was very adamant during her stay about what God would want so I suspect that God didn’t give the thumbs up on premarital sex to her!

But let me tell you how bitter I get about this situation!

Smoking hot bodies should not be wasted on overly religious–they aren’t going to use it right!

A body like that is in conflict of high moral standard.

If I had that body I’d thank Jesus everyday for it then promptly take it out for a spin!! Legs that long and lean need to be wrapped around some man’s head not clinched together so tight her knees could press out a diamond!

When you used to be hot, then get wrinkled and fat it makes you bitter to see a hot body being wasted on a prude!
I mean God could have given her a body like a block, made her short, given her a jacked up hook nose, any number of things and she still could have played volleyball and had high standards. Instead he gives her a smoking hot ass and a smoking hot boyfriend and she uses them for good not evil!!

Fucking disgrace!

It is like when your skinny friend says “I’m such a heifer for eating all that” and you are still eating and she only ate half her plate.

You want to slap a bitch but you want to try to take the high road.

Well my high road is still sorta ditch-ish so if you have a smoking hot body and you act like a moral freak (by the way the hymen does NOT grow back) then I’m going to rant about you to LifeMate and then promptly wrap my fat thighs around his head!

I have just about had it in my little town.

As y’all know I have a neighbor I call Two Step and his wife and they have some follow along BFFs across town.

Well these four are really just down right retarded.

I mean seriously they come from some sort of genetic mutation that happens to people at a certain age.

See, if you’ve been hateful and bitter your whole life because you married that guy in college, you had the kids, they grew up and hate you, you disagree with how your grandkids are being raised, you bitch about Everything and you really love home owner’s associations…then when you turn 50-something that hate mutates into something that turns you just flat retarded!

That describes these fucking idiots I live around. A mutated form of flat out retardation.

So these candy ass bitches write a letter to the editor being cry babies saying “that b&b is mean to us” whaaaa! Somebody call a wambulance! Oh and they also whined that “they tried to hurt our business. They are bullies and mean spirited”

In their defense LifeMate did do something accidentally that effected them which as soon as the editor showed him the letter he fixed. By the way the Editor was all “this isn’t news this is just high school drama” so she didn’t publish it but was nice enough to share it with us! I hung it on the fridge so I could chuckle about it!

But here is my stance. Have I gone on to Facebook and publicly called them cunt faces? Have I said that these four people need to take up the hobby of afternoon sex before their faces freeze like that? Have I said they are completely unoriginal and embarrassing? Well then I haven’t been mean!!! Because mean can go far beyond clicking the wrong button and accidentally doing something. Mean can go well beyond where it has gone.

Mean could be saying they owed back taxes and getting them sued and audited. Oh! Wait! That’s what they did to us!

Yeah it’s like that. A mean person crying because someone was finally mean back. See what I mean about retarded mutation?

Maybe I should put their inns on a Swinger Friendly website?! Give them something to keep them busy! Or would that be mean spirited?

Y’all remember the Friday night Baby Shower in a bar?

Well, there were some subsequent posts.

“wedding dress for sale”

The next day

“engagement ring for sale”

As a good friend of mine said “next up will be ‘baby for adoption’!!!”

I know, she cracks me up too!

The following post appeared on my Facebook NewFeed yesterday.

Candie’s baby shower is tonight at (INSERT BAR NAME HERE), men are welcome! Be here at 6:30!! Also having a flash back party all night with karaoke and 75cent glasses of Boone’s Farm!

Where do ya’ll want to start?

I’ll wait.

Ya’ll ready?

Ok.

What the sam hell ?!

I’m not even going to make fun of her name being Candie (with an ie) I’m going to let that slide.  When you name your baby the name I have named my Angel Face  you lose rights to rag on someone else’s name.

However, I can say something about the baby shower in a skank ass bar!!

Your baby shower is supposed to be somewhere with some airy-ness to it, sun shining through a window, Jesus himself supplying the rays of light to glow on the unborn and angelic mother!  It is NOT supposed to be a hole in the wall bar with black walls, cigarette burns on the edge of every table and sink and a haze of cigarette smoke hanging overhead with neon and black lights!

Your baby shower is supposed to have pinks and greens and baby blues and yellow and just make you want to squeeze the stuffing out of a stuffed bear center piece and eat a handful of Jordan almonds and wash it down with some sherbert lime soda punch! It is NOT supposed to have Budweiser coasters, Coors ashtrays, black tapestry with AC/DC written on it, poppers coming out of the deep fat fryer and Boone’s Farm! I don’t care if you do put that shit in a glass it is still Boone’s fucking Farms!

And what is up with the “men welcome”–I mean when did a baby shower become Ladies Night!  Are ya hoping the 75 cent  Boone Farm will be like dollar draft and have ‘em running? Maybe if you invite men baby’s daddy’ll show up?! Might recognize him next to the neon? Pick him outta the crowd since ya didn’t catch his name?!

Because I’m chickenshit I didn’t put any of this on Facebook because these are the type of women who have hairspray and a lighter in their purse and will roll up to your house falling outta the car yelling “bitch! Get your ass out here! Talking shit about my girl on facebook” and yes, they are the type to have the pregnant girl in tow on such an excursion!  Granted they’d have to travel about an hour to get to me but fuck they ain’t got shit to do after the bar closes anyway!

I hope you’ll pass this blog on. I think bars have really been overlooking a market. They’ve been so busy with bachelorette parties and Ladies Nights and Wacky Wednesdays with DJs and shit…they have completely overlooked the Friday Night Baby Shower!  

 This baby shower says the BFF (single, no kids) got stuck throwing the damn baby shower for her friend who as soon as Preggers met that guy dumped her BFF and now that she’s knocked up and he is being an asshole Preggers has come crawling back needing some baby stuff.  BFF got her though, threw her ass a baby shower at the bar, Holla!

Ok, I’m done…lol..I have to stop. I’m sure it was a perfectly nice baby shower. Bahahahahahahaha! Ok, really that’s the last one.

I have told ya’ll over and over how the B&B business is pretty cut throat in my little town.

It reached a whole new level today.

So I guess less than a year ago a couple bought a B&B in town. The female part of this couple isn’t the type of person I’d hang out with –she’s just not like me.  There is nothing awful about her. I hadn’t given her much thought before today. She is across town working on her house trying to figure out the business and I’ve given her number out to people looking for a room. It is not a friendship by any means but there was no animosity either. …at least not until today.

Today took the motherfucking cake.

Let’s back up.

There are certain things LifeMate and I do that we have done for over 7 yrs at this B&B.  Do we own the rights to everything we do? Can no one else ever do it because we do it? Fuck no! That’s not what I’m saying I’m just saying there are things we’ve done for a very long time. Which is why a week ago when this women started posting on Facebook things that I do verbatim I didn’t blog about it.  So she decided to allow kids. No biggie. So she decided to allow pets. No big deal again. So she decided to start having complimentary wine out for her guests. Now I may be looking a little long and hard at that one but still not going to make a big deal of it. What? Do we have the corner market on wine? Noooo.

So I let it go.  Even though she’s been to my house and she has pumped LifeMate with batting eyes of “How do you do this?” or “Oh, I just don’t know what to do?”  blah blah blah. 

And while I love LifeMate and his willingness to help others it is also the thing that makes me slam cabinet doors and when he asks “What!?” I’ll say “nothing” but it is really something and that something is usually he’s helping some  other person too much!

So this chick borrowed an item from me a week or so ago. She returned it this Friday. Pay attention that fucking day I just gave you is important.

Now those of you who follow me on FB by my business name know that I post what I’m serving and usually take pictures of it.

So let’s go back to how arrogant I am thinking that no one is going to serve the same breakfast I serve.

No! That’s not the point!

I KNOW some other person is going to serve fucking French Toast.  Ok, I’m not  a fucking idiot. I KNOW this. I’m not calling dibs on French Toast.

But there are certain things I can call dibs on! I can call motherfucking dibs on an entire menu set that I created! For example. if I spend HOURS researching dishes and finally come up with a menu that is something EXACTLY like this   Blueberry Stuffed French Toast, Champagne Eggs (not something you come across everyday I had to really dig deep to find that one) strawberries w/coconut whipped cream served with sausage then I expect to be able to call dibs on it. That plate..that one there..the one I just described. That’s my goddamn menu. I did it. I researched it. I did the pairings that most complimented each other. See, you’d think one might go with strawberry french toast but you don’t..you put ‘em on the side!  See, how I did that. See how I am the Mac Daddy of Breakfast Menus! I do this shit good because I love organizing. I love researching. I love testing. I live for that shit. It is easy for me! I own this!

So I’m not calling dibs on any breakfast dish I make. I am calling dibs on a menu and on certain dishes like Champagne Eggs because not a single fucking soul serves Champagne Eggs in my town. Wanna know why? Because you actually have to know that it is technically a dish served with smoked salmon!  That’s how you find it on the Internet!  Unless you just out of your skull think “champagne eggs” and google that otherwise you have to go to like page 10 of a google search on “egg dishes”!

You get my drift? I spend a lot of hours going through cookbooks and fucking websites to find the right way to run this fucking business. I spend HOURS a week –the same amount any other person on a job does–researching, testing and coming up with new recipes!

Hell, even the champagne eggs you will find when you google “champagne eggs” the ones served with smoked salmon—that one isn’t even mine because I’ve tweaked that recipe!

There is also an unwritten rule in this business and it is MY unwritten rule. Don’t fucking do the same breakfast your neighbor does–even if you can do it better—you don’t do it!  For example, there is a B&B owner I can’t fucking stand. They do this mexican, chicken egg dish thingie. I could look it up, I could do it better but I don’t…let THEM do it. It is THEIR thing. Do they own this dish? No. It’s just that it is fucking rude.  Same with another inn, they do crepes. I’d love to do crepes sometimes but I don’t. Why? Repeat after me “Because it is fucking rude to do it when they already do it”

So, with all this knowlege I’ve laid out let me set this up for you.

I’m in my kitchen and this chick returns the item I let her borrow a week ago. So it is Friday and she is standing in my kitchen and she asks “So what are champagne eggs” and I say not thinking I had to have my guard up “you can google it, they have heavy cream and champagne in them.”  Then she says “How do you get your french toast out at the same time” to which we said “you bake it” and even told her what brand to use.  Not another thought was had about this conversation. She wasn’t like holding her shoulder up like “talk into my mic” or writing anything on her arm. I thought she was just curious as to what champagne eggs were..I had no idea what she meant to say was, “I’m about to jack your menu and shit so could you go on and write down those measurements verbatim for me.”

That’s right this fucking woman served Blueberry French Toast, Champagne eggs, and sausage on fucking Saturday morning. 

Look familiar?  The only thing she left out was the  strawberries w/coconut whipped cream –but she did go with a red fruit of watermelon!

Well at least she didn’t stuff the fucking French Toast…maybe she’ll ask me how to do that next week.

The part about all this is she stood in my kitchen asked me how to do a dish only I do in town and then proceeded to post it on motherfucking facebook like she was a fucking genius!  No research. No test kitchen. No pairing research. Just flip over to my facebook page and cut and paste. Not even a shout out of “Thanks to my fellow B&B owner for telling me how to make these wonderful eggs! Kisses!”  Nothing! Nada! Just a “Look at my breakfast!” photo op!

See, the B&B business IS easy! I just didn’t know how to do it!  Cut and paste. Simple!

Needless to say when I saw this post this morning. I immediately called LifeMate into the kitchen and pointed to the computer screen and said “You talk to her again and I’ll rip your nuts off like a paper towel. No more sending people her way. No more advice. Nothing!”

To which he said, “Now, come on. Don’t be like that”     See what I mean about him being the nice one.

And since I wasn’t getting anywhere with him I did the only thing I could do. I facebooked a friend we’ll call Baby G.  The conversation recapped what had happened to which she said:

“I’m gonna tell you what to do.

Get a knife

Come get me

We’ll go stab a bitch.”

That’s the kinda friends I have, People!

Yeah, it made me laugh, too!

And I know no matter what New Girl does she doesn’t do what I do. She can copy it all day but sometimes a copy is just a copy. It looks the same but its just a little bit lighter, a little blurry around the edges, a little less crisp.  

But I can still rant about it for the next couple of days.

Sure I’ll get over it.   In fact what I’ll probably do is post the recipe  for champagne eggs up on Facebook so all the other B&Bs can start making them too …leaving out how I changed the recipe, of course.    But mostly what I’ll probably do is do what I always do mark that person off my list as someone to consider a colleauge and instead place her in the mental category of “Stay Away From.”

Some of you may take the stance of why don’t I just tell her “hey, that’s not cool to stand in my kitchen on Friday and ask me about a dish just to turn around and do it on Saturday with no mention that you got it from me”  and what I’d say to that is  “You aren’t even in the business and you know its not cool. So how could she not realize it wasn’t cool?”

She knew it wasn’t cool but I’m not going to throw a tantrum about it. I’m just going to keep being the badass cook that I am and let ‘em all try to copy it…because sometimes it IS flattering….even when its stealing!

Ok, so most of you who know me also know my sister.

Now I love my sister, I do. Long after those babies move away and start lives of their own it’ll be us still together!

However, with that said I should make something very clear right outta the gate.

She is not a fucking role model.

This is NOT the person you want influencing minors, speaking out on your behalf, being the face of your organization.

She IS a lovely person. She is outgoing. She is charming. She is fun. She is a team player. She gets things done. She works for the greater good not just individuals.

She IS NOT  a role model.

She is not of high moral standard. She’ll turn on you over a piece of pie. She will pretend to wipe her boogers on you just to make you squeal. I know this because I have been the victim of this woman for over 3 decades!

While she is a wondeful owner of a new striving business and she graciously helps all in her little area also have striving businesses she IS NOT the woman you want manning the gate.

Because she will sell the gate off its hinges to a good looking man with a wink and a nice smile!

Yes, when they made her they broke the mold….they also promptly LYNCHED THE FUCKING MOLD MAKER and burnt down his house just outta spite.

Are there worse than her? Sure, sure, sure, no question. If it came down to her as my mayor or Glen Beck I’d pick her without a doubt. But hopefully it won’t come to that, people! 

Would I trust her with my child? Absolutely!  Would I trust her with a microphone at a public gathering? Not on your life! She is the type of person that would convince a crowd it was a good idea for everyone to follow her to a friend’s house and ring the bell and run.

And while some of her antics are fun. Real fucking fun sometimes. Other times you just want to walk behind her, kick her heel so she sorta trips and then say “Oh I’m sorry!” when she looks back at you like you didn’t realize you were gonna sorta trip ‘er but you did.

Now, on a more serious note if you are over a certain age and you have kids and you are already living your adult life–you don’t get a role model. Least of all HER!

A role model is something you look for as a teen. When you move into your 20s you get a mentor. After around 25 or so, you’re too big…you’re just on your own. No role model. So when adults say things about another adult like “you’re not being a very good role model”  I have questions like:

A.)  Are they on a kid show like Disney, a sports person or some other form of famous? Ok, if I’m not doing something as an adult that appeals to children then I’m not being a role model. If her career has children trying to be her then ok, I’ll buy she is being a role model. If she’s just running the store down the street, she ain’t a role model!

B.)  Did you want her to be YOUR role model? If so, I get to take you by the shoulders and shake the shit outta ya because the fact is you are a big girl now and your role is what it is…no role model here so move along, run along and go live your life like a big girl.  There are no models for you. You can have a lady you see at the school that is super patient with her kid and packs a healthy lunch and her kid is super polite and you can say to yourself “I wish I had it that together” BUT SHE IS NOT YOUR ROLE MODEL. She can be an inspiration. She can kick start you to a better person! She is not a role model! You don’t get to start wearing clothes like she does, carry the same purse, or color your hair the same color. You are too old for that shit!

So while I do love my sister—and I can see why people would want to be like her–she IS NOT A ROLE MODEL.

She’s a pain in the ass. She’s a snappy dresser. She takes great care of her teeth.

But sorry, she’s not your role model. Go be yourself. Go be you in all your glory and don’t pay too much attention to what she’s doing! Everyone will be happier because of it.