I’m Going to Kill Us All…

Okay, so.  Today marks my one year Blog-iversary. Yay me!!  One year of my nonsense & you guys have been along for the ride.

But that’s not what I’m gonna talk about.

Because I’m too distracted by my own toxic farts. Yep, we’re gonna talk about my gas.

See, TWH & I have recently started back on the South Beach Diet. We lost a crapton of weight last time so we thought we’d try it AGAIN. Since we’re bordering on Colossal Fatass-dom AGAIN.

The first phase is a whole no sugar, no carbs, live on leafy greens and meat kinda thing.  It totally blows and I would mug a Girl Scout if it meant I could get my hands on some cookies right about now.

However, I have almost convinced my body that Sugar Free candy is just like the real thing. Since I’m PMS’ing like a mofo, I have been hitting the Sugar Free Twizzlers like it’s my JOB.
The problem is the Sugar Alcohol…

Dear Baby Jebus!!  The gas those damned Twizzlers has produced could be bottled as a toxic weapon!!  I’m on a Shaun of the Dead loop where I crack one off, look at TWH & say “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry” before the stench hits him.  I’ve even run off the Little Brown Dawg and THAT little shit can clear a room with his toxic ass-gas!!

It’s a telling statement that I live with all men when there’s a Fart Standard isn’t there??

Anyways, I’m gonna climb in bed, snuggle down under the covers, read my book for the 2.5 minutes it will take for me to begin to drift off…

And hope TWH falls asleep before I do.

Because I’ll SO Dutch Oven his ass.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I DO behave like a teenage boy some days.

5 Comments

Gratitude

Okay, so.  Yesterday I wrote the hardest post I will (Hopefully) ever have to write.  I began it reluctantly.  I was so unsure where to begin.  I revised. I cried. I revised again.  Then when I felt like I’d written all I could, I hit the “Publish” button & put it on my Blog.  There was no taking it back.  It was out there.

I went out into the living room, plopped down next to TWH and said “I did it. I told them all about Chelsea.”  He just said “Were you ready to do that??” I told him “No. But I did anyway.”

I leaned into him. He rubbed my back. I began to piddle around on FB.  Then I saw them. The comments began.

I had no idea what to expect from that post. I was absolutely blown away by what I got.
Love.
Support.
Encouragement.
Understanding.

I got all this and more from you guys and I am so profoundly grateful.  Your words had me crying and laughing.  You all lifted me up in ways I never expected in a million years.

All I can say is Thank You.  Thank You so much for listening. Thank you so much to those of you who shared some of your stories with me.  Thank You for letting me know that this battle was/is never fought alone.

My Heart Sings.

My Cup Runneth Over.

My Gratitude is Boundless.

5 Comments

The Darkness

Okay, so.  This is a story I thought would be a MUCH longer time coming. As in maybe NEVER.  Recent events, however, have prompted me to write this and I don’t know that I’m really ready.  I may never be ready. My stomach is in knots and I think I’m gonna cry. Here goes nothin’.

A maniac walked into a movie theater & shot 47 people. Twelve of whom died.
This has sparked quite a lot of commentary in the social media.  The Twitterverse, Facebook, and Blog-world have been abuzz with shock, condolences, theories & opinions.
This is in response to one of the Blogs I saw in my FB news feed  last night. I can’t find the damned thing today & I’m sick of looking so please don’t ask me who.
 This particular Blogger blamed the parents of the Aurora, CO shooter for his murderous rampage.

I disagree with this on SO many levels and for SO many reasons.

I have a 19 year old daughter. Her name is Chelsea. This is the first and ONLY time you will ever hear about her. EVER.  I won’t be answering any questions. I won’t reply to comments. this is hard enough with out having to re-hash the gory details multiple times. Quite frankly, it hurts too damned much.

Chelsea is a diagnosed Sociopath.  Ted Bundy (the serial killer) was a Sociopath.
Chelsea is also a drug addict & a runaway.
Chelsea is my Darkness.

There were signs that something was “Off”.  So many, many signs.
She was manipulative.
She was abusive.
She was unusually moody.

When she was a toddler, I rationalized these things away.
“Oh. She’s just jealous of her baby sister.”
“Oh. She’s just playing sides to get her way.”
and the Perennial Favorite of Parents Everywhere
“Oh. It’s just a phase.”
Never underestimate a parents power for denial and rationalization. It’s powerful Ju-Ju people.

We took her to her first therapist when she was 4.  She saw 4 subsequent therapists.
None of them had any answers. Except the last one. He diagnosed her with “Borderline Personality Disorder” and told us that when she was re-evaluated at 18 he’d diagnose her as a Sociopath.
That was the scariest thing I’d ever heard.

Here’s an overview of Sosiopathic behavior. I can put tic marks next to just about everything on the list. She was a habitual runaway. She hurt herself & others. She never felt remorse. She was sexually promiscuous & exhibited criminal behavior. By the time everything was said & done, she had a file that had nearly 30 pages of runaway & criminal charges.  Our house was a psychological battlefield and her Dad & I were losing.  We were terrified.

This is what I brought into the world. The pain of that haunts me every day. I DO NOT talk about it.

For someone to say they blame the parents of the CO shooter hurts and enrages me to no end. We did  everything, EVERYTHING to try and help our daughter.The child lost to the Dark. The child who embraced the Dark so fully. Who seemed to revel in it. That it was terrifying to behold.
We tried medication. Stays in THREE different mental health facilities. Group homes. Rehab. She was kicked out of them all..We exhausted every avenue open to us as well as ourselves and our financial resources. We snooped, pried, questioned, double checked, gave space, took away everything, gave everything. Anything we could think of to try and make this child happy and whole again. All to no avail. Her Darkness had consumed her. Swallowed her up whole. There was absolutely no room for us, our worries, our attempts to help. There was only the next thrill. The next high. The next person to screw. The next…whatever.  We’d lost. We didn’t give up, but we’d lost all the same.

One weekend, I faced the Darkness alone.  TWH & TB were away for the weekend at a Scout Camp-out. I’d gone and collected Chelsea that Thursday morning from the Sheriff’s Department after she’d been picked up after her latest disappearing act.  She’d been back home for a little over 24 hours.  I was in the kitchen when she came out of her room and asked to go to a friends house for the evening. like it was the most natural thing in the world. When I told her “No” she flew into a rage the likes of which we’d never seen.  She attacked me.  She flew at me screaming like a banshee and began punching me anywhere she could land a blow.  I tried to hold her off. I would not defend myself. I would not strike this child because I was afraid. I was afraid all the anger & frustration I’d felt at her behavior would coma out and I’d HURT her. I held her at arms length as best I could until she bit me. She bit me the way a caged animal bites. She bit me with all the hatred she could muster. She bit until she drew blood. I let go.  I let go & she ran off into the rainy March night.

She was gone for five days. We knew she’d been found when we got a call from Child Services telling us they were filing charges against us for abuse because Chelsea had shown up in their offices with two black eyes. She said I did it.  She’d finally come up with a way to get out of our house and punish us for our “Transgressions” against her.  Abuse charges.

What followed were months of  “Supervised” visits with her & her “Foster” mother, interrogations by detectives, & endless court dates. She managed to keep herself in check for roughly a month before her pattern resumed with her “new” family.  She ran away after she attacked her foster “sister”.  She was found and placed in a group home. (Her second at this point).  She attacked another girl there, was charged with assault, and ran away a week later.

She was 16 years old.
We haven’t seen her since.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is that some people do truly come into this world “Broken”.  Some vital piece of their very Soul seems to be missing.  I have no better way to say it.  There is nothing anyone can/could say or do to fix that.

Don’t blame the parents of this madman.  Blame the madman.  He made the choice to commit the atrocious crime he did.  HIS choices. HIS atrocity.  HIS Darkness.

His parents may have done all they could and lost the battle anyway.

We did.

And we have to live with that.

13 Comments

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Okay, so. Most days, TWH & I ride into work together. When I pick him up in the afternoons, we exchange the usual pleasantries. Among those is “How was your day??” TWH will usually add “Anything interesting happen today??”. My typical answer is “Not really”. I’ll throw out a tidbit or two but it’s never anything truly noteworthy. Let’s face it, Not every week is a Chicken Shit Husband kinda week.  Today, however, I had something to tell.

TWH: So, how was your day??  Anything interesting happen??

Me: I almost accidentally said Twat at work today. There was that.

TWH: You almost said WHAT??

Me: Twat.

TWH:  How do you “Accidentally” say that??

Me: A client & I were discussing Game of Thrones & how Sansa seems to have the worst decision making skills in the history of EVER. (SPOILER!!)  Even when she was given the opportunity to leave King’s Landing, she chose to stay.  I told him I was all like “You stupid Twaaa…TWIT!!”.

TWH: Anybody buy that??

Me: Not really. They’ve met me.

TWH: Anybody say anything??

Me: No.

TWH: Then they couldn’t have been surprised.  I can’t believe they’d expect anything less at this point.

Me: Is that Good or Bad

TWH: Yes.

Yes is his go-to blanket answer he gives when he knows there is Potential for Pouting. He will neither deviate from or elaborate on his answer.

I usually end up pouting anyway.  Mostly because somehow, somewhere, in that “Yes” I’m supposed to be mildly insulted.  I think…

11 Comments

Rainstorms & Rainbows

Okay, so.  Yesterday, TWH & I spent the ENTIRE DAY on the sofa watching stuff on Netflix & not doing Jack Shit.  We’re recovering from basically the whole month of June where we didn’t spend even one weekend at home in our own bed.  We were being lazy slackasses & enjoyed every damn minute of it.

Anyway, at one point during the afternoon, it clouded up outside for our daily thunderstorm & the house got all gloomy. Now, we didn’t have any lights on & since we weren’t doing Jack Shit, there were going to be no lights turned on as that would require actual effort.  I made some inane comment along othe lines of “Here comes our daily rain”. TWH looks at me and says “I can barely see you there on the other end of the sofa. Where’d you go??”  I lifted up my shirt to show him my boobs and asked “Can you see me now??”(because I’m all classy like that) to which TWH responded “Oh look!! A rainbow!!”.  I laughed & told him if I ever broke down & got a tattoo it’d be a rainbow across my boobs.  Hell, maybe I’d get one over each boob. Then I’d have a DOUBLE rainbow!!

Oooooohhhhhh…  A Double Rainbow….

TWH wasn’t on board with that so much.

2 Comments

Things I Should NOT Have to Say.

Okay, so.  Things I should NOT have to say.

To The Crackhaid Dawg: No, I am NOT scratching your ass.

To The Little Dawg: Dammit, stop biting me on my ass.

To TB: I put “Do Laundry” on today’s chore list like you asked me to.

I love TB and the Dawgs, but really… Enough already.

I’m considering hiding in my closet with a pie and some vodka.

Except I’m on a diet because I’m at Full-Term Pregnancy weight AND I’M NOT PREGNANT.

And neither of those things is on my diet.

Somehow hiding in the closet with a six pack of sugar free Jell-o and a bottle of water doesn’t have the same comforting ring to it.

Le SIGH….

3 Comments

I Have a Theory

Okay, so.  I have a theory T may be a Test From God.  I may be failing.

Take yesterday, for example. It was slow in the shop. T decides to watch a movie on his phone. While he is watching said movie, he is providing running commentary. “No. Oh no!! Don’t do THAT!!”  “Oh. He’s just DEAD…”  It went on…..  And on….  Aaaaannnddddd ON.   He was wearing his headphones y’all. I couldn’t hear shit about the movie BUT his running commentary!!

Amazingly, I held my tongue. I just gritted my teeth & kept reading Game of Thrones. (I HATE Jeoffrey & Cersei)

Later T was reading People magazine.  I was reading my book.  T begins commenting ON THE STUFF HE’S READING!!  Oh. Dear. God!!

I begin responding. “I read that.”  “I read that too.”  “AND that.”  Finally my eye began to twitch & I HAD to say something.
“I’ve read it. I’ve read the whole damned magazine.  I have already seen everything contained in between the covers of that magazine. I do not NOW nor will I EVER require your running commentary on a magazine. Or a movie. Or anything. Really. So for fuck’s sake WILL YOU STOP!!”

He got vewwy vewwy quiet after that.

I kinda apologized later. I just felt like THIS all day yesterday…

And he was stepping ALL OVER my last nerve!!

I probably owe him some Reeses Cups or something…

4 Comments

Why Yes…

Okay, so.  At work, I am usually the one who answers the phone. I’m not exactly sure how or when this duty fell to me primarily but it has. I also do most of the bathroom scrubbing, sweeping, straightening, sign making & mail sorting. I use all this to my advantage on Secretaty/Executive Assistant Day & guilt T into a free meal so don’t think I’m complaining.
Anyways, typically right before & after a big Holiday or Vacation we get about 50 gajillion phone calls with people wanting to know the following:
Are you open??
Are you both working??
What time do you close??
Have you/when are you gone/going to lunch??
Are you busy right now??

I can answer these questions civilly up until about lunch. Depending on when lunch is.  Recently, right before a major Holiday, lunch didn’t happen until about 2PM or so. To say I was getting a little cranky before would be understating it somewhat. I had my head down and was going balls-to-the-wall cutting hair when the phone rang. I answered like THIS:
“T’s Barber Shop. Yes we are open. Yes we are both working. Yes we are busy. No, we haven’t gone to lunch. No, I have no idea when we’re going to lunch AND we close at FIVE. Is there anything I failed to cover??”
To his credit, the client on the other end of the line responded with “Nope. That pretty much answered all of my questions. I’ll see you later.”
All the clients who were IN the shop at the time were laughing their asses off.
T was NOT amused.
At ALL.
Not even a little.
He kind of fussed me.

UNTIL…

He was telling this story later that day as an example of my insolent behavior.
It just so happens the client I said all that to was sitting in the shop waiting for a haircut. He spoke up and said:
“That was me who called. I found her answer to be extremely helpful & concise. She answered all my questions BEFORE I even asked them”.

HA!!!  Suck on THAT!!

Now T tells that story as an example of my insolent behavior & how I get away with it.
And as a cautionary tale to some of our newer clients that I haven’t broken in good yet.

T often fails to appreciate my genius.

6 Comments