Summertime

I'm Just Never Happy

Today, the temps ran into the 90's and just last week our high was 60-something and I complained about that and now I'm complaining again. After months of rain and cold, we got some sun and I suddenly remembered that I hate hot weather. My feelings regarding hot weather is clear, when its cold you can always add more layers but there is only so naked you can get, especially with children. Right now, I wish I could run around like my husband and sons, they're in their underwear sitting under the return for the Air Conditioning. I'm fully dressed and sweating like Kirstie Ally running after an ice cream truck.

Now I could wear shorts but I'm also vain, plus I don't like being asked why can I see your veins mom? Or have the kids play roadmap on them, so I keep them covered. My girls, formally known as Wilma and Betty but know known as Lucy and Ethyl, are safely tucked behind an extra large tee shirt that actually belongs to my husband Rainbird. I feel like a fat slob munching on a bag of white cheddar cheese popcorn and sipping iced tea, while staring at a pile of Popsicle sticks I ate for dinner.

There is a Place in Hell

For people that do unspeakable evil. I'm speaking of the rat fucks (sorry no other word to describe them) that desecrated a veterans cemetery in Washington State over the Memorial day weekend. They first just removed flags and burned them, but then when the flags were replaced the following day, they were again removed and replaced with hand-made Swastikas. What kind of degenerate misinformed mind is at work who believes its okay to do that? On our local news they actually showed some college, organic latte drinking, bike riding, vegan eating, Mom and Dad don't get me types that agreed with it. I'm sick of this tripe! I was born in the late 60's and I understand the ideals they stood for but this is ridiculous and incredulous to wrap my head around.

I Wonder If Rosie Smiled When She Heard About It?

No, I'm not going to talk about what happened last week on that stupid show The View. Everyone's covered it to death. I'm also not going to talk about the little girl missing in Portugal since I'm sure the parents are feeling guilty enough. Okay one small comment; while Rosie is clearly a fool, starved for attention and wrong, Elizabeth Hasselbeck is not the sharpest tool in the shed either. But then again, considering the brainpower on the whole show…what can we expect? And those parents, who are offering a 5 million dollar reward and met the Pope, while I'm sorry for their pain and the suffering they must be going through…Why oh why, with all their money, wouldn’t they hire a baby sitter or nanny or something to sit with the kids instead of leaving a 4 year old in charge of the younger twins? Okay, the 4-year-old girl wasn't exactly in charge, and everyone was supposed to be asleep, but she was the oldest one there. If one of her siblings had woken what would she have done? She's four! To me, it's as bad as the poor trash parents that leave their kid in a double-parked car, strapped in the car seat, with the engine running while they run into the Dunkin Donuts. And then wonder why the car is gone when they come out.

© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved

I'm Still on the Fence

How Much is Your Time Worth?

I'm still mentally thinking about the landscaper and that $400 bill for a one time clean up. Mind you, that's just for the front yard. The question remains the same, do I want to pay $400 to have the landscaper clean up the front yard to their specifications or do I want to suck it up and do it myself while hoping I get it right. If I don't get it right, they'll charge me extra for the first visit. I don't want to go out there all day long, pulling weeds only to be charged on my first bill something like $300 bucks because they trimmed the plants too and picked up a few (well a lot) leaves. I'm not even complaining about the $156 dollars a month they're going to charge us for maintenance, since it's money well spent—at least for us, since neither of have the time to spend out there doing it all. I'd rather go out and do something fun with the kids, of course there is the problem since I'll be paying for this, I won't be able to afford to take the kids anywhere.

I called the landscaper in question, and they told me what they do for that 400 dollar clean up. They spray all the weeds, and trim all the plants, cleaning them up a little; basically get the yard ready for weekly service. Now I'm even less sure about this. The contract says it will take one day, but what if only takes two hours? Do they charge me less, well husband wants to know that and honestly I guess I don’t him.

I Would Like To Most Slap

The fool that came up for idea of usernames on websites for login purposes and I'm completely serious when I say I'd like to slap them. Each website today has their own login and password and each have different criteria for both. Some like to you to use your email address, while others like to annoy you with a name, which isn't really a problem unless you can't remember which you're supposed to use. Really, do I use bumblebutt@screwyou.com, or is it just bumblebutt and how the hell am I supposed to remember this?

So many websites have gone to the idea that stored passwords are evil that it's getting difficult to recall them all especially with the criteria changing seemingly daily. One website requires that the USERNAME contain at least one number in it; not the password (that requires mostly numbers and not in any order and ONE letter). I have issues with remembering my fucking phone number, how am I supposed to remember all this other crap too? Then we come to issue of multiple email accounts, somehow, without understanding how, I've got like a hundred of them! Can I ever remember which one I've used? That answer is simple, and if I could, there wouldn't be a point to this post.

I would also like to slap the people, that don't send emails to say hi, how are you, but instead use them to forward crap, like some little girl that never existed who has been missing for a year. Or that underarm deodorant that causes cancer, or tampons that contain asbestos, and every other foolish Urban Legend that seems to find it's way to my inbox. I'm not even getting started on the chain letters, which pontificate that my tits will fall off if I don't forward this message to at least 60 people in the next minute.

I'm Losing My Mind!

At least that's what I announced today, to which my son replied, "you know mom if it's gone for more than three days, it's lost forever."

It made me think about how many times I have misplaced something not too serious and was completely unable to locate it because of the apparent three-day expiration date. Important things are searched for until they are found, like the TV remote or car keys. But unimportant things, like a bill that's not due until next month, a book or a menu for a Chinese food place you like are often gone until you've either called to find out how much owe, replace the book or just go to the restaurant and wing the take out. Until he mentioned it, I never thought about it or gave it a lot of thought, so I further queried if I don't find my mind within three days, will I never find it again. He looked at me with a duh look on his face and said emphatically, "Oh you'll find it when you're looking for something else but you'll just pass over it, hoping you'll remember where you saw it later."

© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved

Whoosh!

Another Week Just Flew By

And what do I have to show for it? Nothing not even a funny kid story… My life right now is so dull I can hardly stand it. I can't even blog about things that piss me off because nothing right now is pissing me off. I know give me time, I'll think of something.

It's raining here today, I know, I live in the Pacific Northwest what else is it supposed to do, beside rain? Sighs I'm just never happy; by July I'll be screaming for rain and none will be in the forecast. I am looking forward to summer though I have nothing planned except to stay home, keep the house clean, and watch the grass grow.

Have I Ever Mentioned I hate Gardening?

I love the idea of a garden I just hate taking care of it, but it looks as though my luck has run out because Rainbird has decided that we'll hire a gardener to take care of the front yard, I'm sure the neighbors will be thrilled. The problem is I need to pull all the weeds other wise the gardener is going to charge us 400 bucks extra to clean it up. I'm not thrilled about this idea and to me, it's well worth the 400 bucks to just have them do it…but Rainbird is being cheap and said no. I know it's a lot but and I don't have a lot to do during the day, unless you count cleaning, cooking, and shopping or thinking about shopping at Target.

Memorial Day is Coming

I can't believe the kids are almost out of school and I haven't a clue what I'm going to do with little Fredo all summer long, because God knows I don't want him forget everything he's learned this past year. I'd really like to keep him out of summer school forever but that's going to take a lot of work. As you know I don't care much for work.

Spring is giving up the fight and all the wonderful flowers and plants are starting to fade already, and that adds to my sadness, well maybe sadness isn't the right word. I just feel gloomy when my excitement of spring dies with blooms. I know its part of the cycle of life and all that crap, but still there is a bit melancholy watching the spring flowers fall off the branches. I still hate gardening. I hate the rain.

It's Not that Bad. Really.

Spring will give way to summer, and with summer comes fun, right? I already said I don't know what I'll do with the kids this summer but maybe I'll surprise myself. I've already started thinking of things we can do, which are mostly free since Fredo is a sketchy about trying new things. We'll work on that too this summer. It's going to be fine, at least that's the mantra I keep telling myself.

Besides, I just walked down the street in the pouring rain to get the mail, I have a roast cooking in the oven and I walked into the house, inhaled sharply; it smelled like home. How bad can life be with a roast in the oven, the kids quietly doing homework, the kitchen kind of clean, and the table cleared of junk? If you ask me, life is damn good.

© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved

Weekend Entertaining the Dogs of Hell Amongst Other Things

It Was Okay--I Guess if You Like Drunk Guys

Last weekend a few of Rainbird's friends came for a visit and it was an eclectic mix of friends we only see on a limited basis, and others we would see more frequently. One such friend has a wife two months away from delivering their first child. That just made me want to scream at him, what the hell are you doing here? In any event he's completely delusional about how much a child will change his life and even said that since the baby is squirming around so much they've gotten used to the lack of sleep. Yeah! It's exactly to be woken every few hours by a screaming baby as it is having one squirming around inside waiting to born. He seems to think that his life isn't going to change and he even asked when are we going to come and stay with him…my answer was maybe in a few years. He didn't think I was funny but I wasn't laughing when I said it, the idea of staying at someone's house who has a baby is about as appealing as having nails driven under my fingernails.

The Strange Things Kids Do

Before the guys arrived, I pulled out a large carry-on type of bag for the boys to use for their clothes and other miscellaneous stuff they needed to bring to Mother-in-law's house. I didn't look inside it, but just handed it †o the kids and said to put their stuff inside. It's not one Rainbird normally uses when he travels and the last time it was used was when we took our trip to Seattle last year.

The kids filled it with their important stuff and some non-important stuff I made them bring, like socks, underwear, and their toothbrushes. I brought them over on Thursday evening, and I knew they'd be missing school on Friday. So Friday, we're at a winery with all the guys and my cell phone rings, I look and see it's mother-in-law calling. I answer it and she tells me that Piss-boy found something in the bag we gave him to use. I'm thinking yeah, whatever…then she goes on to say it was a condom. Once I get over my shock, I start laughing, she's laughing and neither of us can figure out what possessed him to actually give it to her, except he thought it was funny—Its not like he doesn't know what they are. I get off the phone with her after I recovered from the laughter and returned inside the winery. Rainbird asked if everything was okay, and I started giggling all over again, and relay the story to him via a whisper. Well, my brother-in-law, who also started laughing hysterically, drawing attention to the scene and making everyone curious about it, overheard my whisper. Leaving me no choice but to repeat the story to everyone, including a few strangers, regardless of discrete I attempted to be. Everyone agreed that Piss-boy should have just put the thing in his wallet and kept quiet about it but also thought the shock value alone was worth something.

Between Shit and Syphilis

My father used to say you could find sympathy in the dictionary between shit and syphilis, so it shouldn't take a Rhodes scholar to figure out that begging for sympathy just doesn't work. Of course another saying is paybacks are a bitch but we'll get into that one later.

My husband, Rainbird, got a case of explosive diarrhea, really bad nasty stuff, the kind that makes you want to go to bed and not get out. Of course that's what you'd like to do, but it doesn't work that way. Naturally I reminded him frequently about shit and syphilis, but he didn't care. Then it happened, on Friday, he started feeling better, the virus it seems only lasts a little more than a day, but he stayed home anyway.

Remember what I was saying about Paybacks?

Well, we watched the movie Blood Diamond, which I hate to say, though very sad, was actually fairly good. Then we watched the movie The Secret of Rhone Innish an Irish family type of flick, which I enjoyed, despite feeling very tired and rather nauseous. So finally I went to bed, and just felt crappy but didn't think much and tried to sleep. At midnight I woke up with a shot, screamed at Rainbird, "Get the pot!" I ran to the bathroom knowing I was completely uncertain whether to sit or stand. After throwing up all over the toilet, Rainbird pushed the large stockpot through the door and muttered something about sleeping with Piss-boy.

Yet Another Reason Not To Feed Your Children Pepperoni Pizza in a House Filled with White Carpets

About 20 minutes later I was settled into bed, feeling crappy when I heard Fredo crying, and other voices. I instantly knew what was happening, and bolted from the bed, found poor Fredo on the stairs and told him to get his little ass upstairs and get into the bathroom. He didn't move fast enough and vomited all over four steps, needless to say I wasn't happy as I dragged him up the stairs. I still wasn't happy when I dragged him into the bathroom and watched him vomit all over the place while I screamed at him to kneel.

After convincing, yes rather harshly, it's best to kneel at the toilet if you're throwing up, I left the room, grabbed a towel and attempted to clean up the vomit on the stairs. Mind you, I'm feeling total crap, and I'm not very patient at all, so I leave the towel, and look into the guest room and see it's empty. I go downstairs and don't see Rainbird anywhere, so I go back upstairs, run back to my own bathroom and vomit again. After that I head back down the hall to Piss-boy's room, throw the door open, and scream at Rainbird if I can get a little help.

He got up and tried to clean the stairs using the carpet cleaner stuff I use, and sometime shortly after that Piss-boy ran into the bathroom throwing up in there. He went back to bed without saying another word and we didn't see him until Saturday afternoon.

I tell Fredo to take off his clothes, since he vomited all over them, and send him to sleep in our bedroom on Husband's side of the bed. I place a bucket by his side of the bed; the large pot on mine and we both woke two more times that night to throw up. We found it much easier though not to have to get out of bed to vomit.

Within an hour, the two kids and I were all sicker than husband was and at least Fredo and I stayed in the bedroom all day on Saturday watching cartoons and sleeping. By Sunday we started feeling much better, but that was Mother's Day and we couldn't celebrate, so I tried to clean the stairs better, while Rainbird went grocery shopping. Having succeeded where Rainbird miserably failed, I went downstairs and started tackling the stack of dishes in the sink and wondered how one man can make such a mess.

Other News

Paris Hilton is said to be emotionally distraught at the idea of serving 45 days in jail. They even organized a keep Paris out of Prison rally in New York City but only 3 people showed up and some photographers. You can't get more Simple than prison. Did anyone see her mother yelling at the prosecutor, it was priceless and clear none of them understand that if it were anyone else, they'd already be in jail.

She did nothing she was supposed to do, so yeah she deserves it. I hope she gets into a nasty cat fight and gets her skinny ass kicked.

Does Anyone Else Think God Shut Him Up Before He Said Anything Else?

Of course I'm speaking of Jerry Falwell, who accused Tinky Winky of being gay, warned parents the evils of Disneyland (and called for a boycott) because they gave benefits to domestic partners, said we deserved 9-11, aids was a good thing…I don't think I need to go on. He also said that if he didn't get a certain amount of money God was going to call him home. He also believed he had several years left because of "deals" he made with God.

I guess God felt otherwise.

© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved