Burning Down The House

.... no not the Talking Heads song.

I'm talking about Andyisms... they haven't stopped.  Just my blogging stopped.  Andy doesn't stop. 

The fear of the apartment being burned down started off quite early when we thought we could pop out to the grocery store for moment with the kid home alone.  We got back and the house smelled of burning.  Turns out he had been lighting matches in his room and burning plastic in his waste bin.  We learned early on that he can't be left alone if we want the apartment not being burned down and my dogs dead.

I promise I am not dead....

Or I wouldn't be writing this right now.  I have been quite busy with:

1. Foreign exchange hosting.
2. Work as usual.
3. School, yeah I am not doing it for a degree... far better, for money.
4. Training for my run.
5. Planning my trip across the Pacific.
6. Trying not to murder my husband's child.

Not dead and not the race I have been training for.

The Cruise

It has yet to happen but I am feeling a tad uneasy about it right now.  I got an e-mail yesterday afternoon from the cruise line regarding a delay in departure.

Why?

Nasal Assault

I was going to ramble on about sun worship and the like.  But I happened to sit down in a foul place and it has overshadowed my original blog thought.  Maybe later I will go on about sun worship.

Right now my complaint is about high school children; again!  Yes, I know.

Return of the Wrath

About a month ago, I posted about my shoes being stolen from the gym.  I have since calmed down.  In retrospect I brought it on myself.  I left my shoes unsecured, I am lucky that was all that was stolen.  Still doesn't excuse the person that stole from me for their actions.  But had I locked my stuff up during my short shower, I would not have had to leave the gym barefoot.

Let me give a little back story into my latest fire fueled rant.  I am sure some of you have gathered that I have been taking a pottery wheel class(es).  If not, I am telling you now.  This is my second semester working the pottery wheel and have also signed up to take a Raku firing class as well.  Fridays are better than Christmas.  Friday is the day the glaze kiln is emptied, so all of your hard work finally comes out as a finished piece.  

You suck, you can't play with us.

Tuesday was another typical day for me.  Well typical in that since my last blog post I have been working 13 hour days, including weekends.  How does that saying go?

I digress, as usual.  So Tuesday shortly after the mister takes Andy to crappyassfootball practice, I get a text about the coaches acting like idiots.  Here is the scenario:

The practice field that SMYFL uses belongs to a junior high school.  During regular school hours, which last Tuesday ran business as usual since it was the first day of school.  All campuses in this city are closed campuses, meaning all perimeter gates are locked, for the kids' safe keeping I suppose.  I don't see how a perimeter gate will keep the crazies out if all they need to do is hop over or climb under a fence.  Which brings me to what happened next.  

So rude!

Saturday morning I went out to run some errands.  I have a foreign exchange student staying with us from Indonesia and he requested a few snacks.  The guy in the above picture is not the exchange student.  He is a bad apple.  He is one of those older folks that think the world owes them something.  I can't stand people like that!

He had been standing in a check out line when he decided to change lanes.  In the process of changing into the lane I was queued up for, he slammed his cart into my arm in an effort to cut me off.  I exclaimed, in pain, "Ouch."  He then gave me the nastiest look and in a very rude tone said, "Excuse you."

No, excuse you.  You hurt me.
EXCUSE YOU, for being in my way.
An apology would be nice.
I am not going to apologize for hitting you.  I got in this lane first.
I don't care which lane you want to be in, I don't mind waiting.  What I do mind is getting hit and not getting a simple apology.
I won't apologize for hitting you.  I would do it again too.
For an older gentleman you are setting a very poor example for us younger people.

He turned away and didn't utter another word.  I so wanted to just pop off at the mouth and give him an ear full.  But he already was making himself look like a jackass... and getting called out for being a bad person was the icing on the cake.  People were looking at our exchange.  He was acting immature and someone young enough to be his daughter called him out.  I think he was a bit embarrassed.  I took out my cell phone and took a picture of the back of his head just so I could post it on my blog.  I was shocked that he was unapologetic no matter what his age.  I was so glad I didn't let my temper get the best of me but I was pretty hot under the collar.  Since when is it okay to mow someone down and feel good about it?  I seriously hate people some days.  I told the mister about it and he told me I should have hit him with my car.  Violence is not the answer but I hope that old man went home stewing because a youngster had to remind him about his manners. 

In all honesty I probably would not have said a word to him had he not hit my arm that is currently in a splint.  So yea, I was already a bit hurt in the arm that got plowed into.  I didn't need to be in more pain, I thought evil little thoughts in my head stabbing tiny daggers in his eyes.  It must be exhausting to be such a nasty mean person all the time... because that little exchange I had with the man was enough to tucker me out and it was only 9am!!!

2 Qualms

These should probably be thrown under the pet peeve category....(three if you count the fact that I think I honestly am losing my memory.)

1.)  First and foremost.... I am NOT a prude but god damn it if every stupid movie I want to watch these days has to be sprinkled with several sex scenes.  I DO NOT want 5, 2 minute segments in every movie involving sweaty backs, nail clawing and thrusting with inaccurate moaning.  That is 10 minutes a movie of sex that I am not having.... why would you want me to watch that Hollywood???  Also, what's up with the recent gratuitous penis/ball shots these days???

Some of my favorite movies have sex scenes but not every god damn scene change.  What ever happened to the movie montage?  Seriously!  I end up grabbing the remote to fast forward through the poorly done sex scenes.  Look, I KNOW sex sells.  So either make a damn porn or get the fuck out of my story line!  I have found myself watching K-dramas/K-Movies because even a kiss scene is over the top.  -_-  I can't even watch certain shit in my own house cause I don't need Andy watching crotch/tit shots.  Don't get me wrong, I saw that shit as a kid but seriously it was a brief blink not 2 minutes of grunt-tastic action.  I fucking hate watching fucking sex scenes in my plot related movies.  You either get a movie or you get porn.... why does it have to be both?!?!?!  Was Boogie Nights not enough?????

I hate high school.

These "students" are a lie.

Okay so maybe not high school the place, or high school the curriculum (which incidentally sucks right now), mostly I hate the high schoolers.  This isn't a reflective post about how I was bullied in high school and how now I have low self esteem.  No, I think it has more to do with the maturity level (which for some, will always remain the same). 

Since my promotion, I have been on-site at various high schools 100% of the time.  Where as before I was only let out of my little cage during non-school time (summer break, spring break, winter break).  That being said I am reminded of the stupidity of high school children.  I avoid them at all costs, I do not speak to them aside from telling them to leave a class I am working in if a teacher or other staff is not in the room.  Why?  Because they annoy me and I was not hired to deal with children.  I was hired to deal with computers, the network and other related duties.

***Warning I in no way condone inappropriate relationships between staff and students.  I also encourage people to report improper conduct if it is indeed occurring.  No one should have to feel ashamed to come forward.***

Woke up on the snarky side of the bed.

Literally and figuratively!

Snarky, my dog was on the side of the bed I woke up on, that's a good thing.  Nothing like waking up next to undying loyalty and wagging tails right?  The morning started out so nicely, I was looking forward to work and later pottery.  I was looking forward to the child returning to school until I was reminded what a pill it is to get him going to school.  So my mood quickly shifted to snarky and seems to have stayed with me.  I left while he was in the midst of his school routine, not listening, lolly gagging and running late as usual.

I feel like Hank right now.

Any moment now I feel like I could just be less helpful than I tend to be at work.  Or tell a co-worker to shut up because I am tired of hearing about their children.  There is a child in my house, I don't want to hear, see or be around others when I am at work.  Work is the great escape and I like my job.  Well at least until recently.

Bras and Panties

I really hate shopping for them.  Shopping for a bra is time consuming, you have to try the damn things on to make sure it will provide proper comfort, support or whatever else it is you are looking for in a bra.  I have better things to do with my time than wade through racks of bras and try them on in a cramped, hot, smelly fitting room.  I HATE shopping for bras.  Shopping for panties is just as bad if not worse.  The sizing on them is all screwy!  The last time I successfully purchased panties I had to go back to the store to return them because I bought the wrong size.  Each clothing line has their own crazy sizing charts which just about drives me to drink.  Hmm, there's an idea!  Enhance my shopping experience with a flask?  Hmm, that might lead to waste of money, maybe that's a bad idea.

I have had a Kohl's gift card since my birthday, not the last one... the one before that.  I figured with some time off from work after the holidays it would be wise to use the gift card to invest in undergarments.  I was starting to run low and made the mental note to brave the department stores several months ago.  I actually went to the store twice before this last time and failed.  The first time, I walked up to the front door, decided I had better things to do and never technically stepped foot into the store.  The second time I made it through the doors, looked around and felt a sense of dread.  There were about a gazillion people, each with 3 or 4 little people running amuck in the department store.  I quickly decided it was not worth the hassle of hurdling over knee-high moving obstacles all in the name of new supportive undergarments, I had better things to do with my time.

Firestarter

No, not that kind of firestarter.

No not that one either.  Though maybe a bit closer to the truth than the former firestarter.

There are events or people that remind me of times gone by.  Old times, maybe not good times, maybe angst encumbered teen times?  I am not a fire bug.  I have a healthy respect for fire and I don't wanna go burning down California.  I hear you end up in deep doody for lighting fires for shits 'n' giggles 'round these parts.  Plus I love trees!

She said no.

My aunt told me a long time ago, when I was very young, "You don't need friends.  Friends are good for nothing."  I only assume she had friends that may have hurt her.  So to safe guard me from pain she would just teach me to avoid it all together.  Well, as a typical child would do, I ignored her teachings.  With good reason, I mean I do have a handful of friends I care for.  And I guess they may care for me too, but it's all subjective I suppose.

Recently an old friend of mine just moved back from being out of the country.  I thought it would be a fun idea to meet up and talk about travels from afar, catch up on life.  I had planned my afternoon around meeting up with her.  I talked to the hubs that I would be coming home late because I wanted to meet up with my friend to grab a bite to eat.  I didn't feel like having her come to my house where Andy would be a constant interruption, hell she hasn't even heard the insta-mom news yet.  And then I get the message that I have gotten before, "My girlfriend said no."  This has happened before, with more than just one person.  I just bid my friend a good day and said it's cool; even though I feel a twinge of pain in my chest, my eyes burn and my face feels unusually warm.

Bad things happen to good people.

I was a lazy shit this week.  I didn't run since last week, not once, until today.  My sister, who doesn't run, decided to come run along with me.  She had her best mile time in, well, since ever!  I had a nice shower and said my goodbyes to my mister and his son.  Went on my way to a Pampered Chef Party... I promised I would.  So off I went to have my shower; so my sister could take me with, to her house and then have her shower too.  The plan was we could go to the party from her house after her shower.

I waited at her house while I had a nice long chat with her room mate.  This is her first year teaching and she has a bit of a tough student.  Andy's teacher is also in her first year, having a tough student being none other than Andy.  After my sister had her shower we headed over to the glorified Tupperware Party.  By this time (11.30) I was famished.  A 5k run, only a smoothy in my belly; I was looking forward to the snacks these parties provide.  I was considering what to pile onto my second cake-slice sized plate of food when I heard my phone ring.

Revenge of the Bathroom Nightmares

So last night during dinner, Andy told me I should pack my suitcase and move out.  Maybe he was joking, maybe he wasn't.  I can never tell with the kid because to him everything is a big joke.  Jokes on me!  Yay.  Earlier that day I advised the mister to have a chat with Andy because he was being wasteful, again.  I had already discussed proper use of toilet paper and not to be wasteful with it.  But he didn't listen and has been using toilet paper to wipe down the foggy mirrors after his shower.  The discussion I had asked the mister to have had slipped my mind and his.  So the discussion was not had before Andy had his shower last night.  I went to bed early so I could have a nice early morning run.

***Warning: Do not keep reading if you don't want to hear about tampons and periods.***

And yet I tolerate you....

Recently a title suggestion for my blog made me chuckle, "Domestic Adventures of a Reluctant Stepmom".  Except it feels more like misadventurous adventures than anything else.  Reluctant yes, very, if I had a crystal ball that let me peer into the now about two months ago when the bomb was dropped.  Would I have high-tailed it to the hills of Rome?  Or would I be experiencing these misadventures still?

"See, I want to believe you

And I wanted to trust you

And I want to have faith to

Put away the dagger

But you lie, cheat and steal"

Fuck EBT and the horse it rode in on!

So it's now be over a week as step-mother to a 9 year-old boy.  Upon his arrival, armed with McNuggets, he voiced his love for them.  The following day, he microwaved what he had left of said McNasties and ate them.  For lunch that day he had instant ramen noodles with a slice of processed cheese.  He said he loved the stuff!  We took a trip to the grocery store which I managed to somehow survive without breaking a glass bottle of wine open and drowning my face in it.  While heading home I asked Andy, the step-kid, "What's your favorite food?"  And he quickly replied, "7-11."

There goes my buzz....

A bottle of wine deep and two-thirds of the bathroom cleaned when Murphy comes a knockin' at my door.  I thought I would spend my Friday night at home packing crap and cleaning house.  I got tired of packing crap so I figured I would make the bathroom nice.  A nice uneventful evening at home cleaning, packing and drinking wine right?

No, not right.

The fucking shower knob thingamajigger broke.  It's not the first time... the first time it was age that made the plastic part inside break.  This time it's cheap plastic (replaced by even cheaper property management) that caused the problem.  You turn the knob but the plastic part inside is not grabbing the inner bits that cause the water to come out.  I can actually see the plastic innards have snapped apart.

Mine is not a Moen, it has no brand.

So here I am at 21:30, in my house garb, sweaty and hands smelling of bathroom cleansers with a broken shower.

I call the maintenance hot-line, which I can tell is located somewhere in The South.  If I know anything, I know that maintenance here works at the speed of a one-legged man who broke his one leg.  I spent the day working and then attending high school graduation out on this unusually warm, sunny day.  THEN I went home to slave some more.  I wanted a damn shower.

Then I call my gym, I never go at night.  They close at 11 on Fridays so I have time to get over there and wash up.  Then the brilliant idea hits me, I should have a little run/brisk walk while I am there.  I have time for a little exercise before my shower.  

So now I am clean with a broken shower.  I have an empty bottle of wine that I feel none of the effects of having imbibed.  It's now approaching midnight, should I pop open the soju?

It's probably best I do not since I am supposed to help a friend move to his new place first thing in the morning.  -_-

I probably shouldn't have gone down to 7-11 for a French Vanilla Cappuccino either.  I hope tonight isn't a sign of how 'smooth' my weekend will go.

Get over yourself!

Not the same girl.

But the driver of the car was wearing a derp face, glasses without lenses and a knitted hat.

'Yeah, you driving in the car with the headlights off, get over yourself and pay attention!'

After doing my sister's nails last night she was driving me to meet the mister at the gas station.  On our way there, a vehicle was driving behind us with it's headlights off.  So in an effort to annoy the driver into flashing their high-beams and realizing their lights weren't even on; sis was driving 10 mph under the speed limit.  You would think in California, land of the impatient driver (famous for the California Roll), the person behind us would have become impatient and flashed us.  Nope.

Too cool for school hipster woman was too busy, probably high as fuck, probably talking about how cute guys are with Paul Bunyan beards and flannels with her equally oblivious gal pal.  By now there is a third car on the road.  Hipster mobile was between our truck and another car.  There were two guys in the other car trying to get the girl's attention about their lights.  And these hipster buffoons think they are getting hit on.  So they are giggling, shaking their heads at the guys and looking our direction.  So I point to their car and make motion that their lights need to be turned on.

These self absorbed hipsters probably thought they were getting hit on by girls now because the lights didn't go on.  They just sat at the light flailing about like morons.  We were turning left so, we left the idiots to fall into a drug induced paranoia that the guys next to them were going to follow them for raping or something.  Fucking idiots... so self absorbed that they thought all the waving, pointing and gesturing was about them and not the car.  Some people really just should not be allowed to drive, let alone breathe.  Women drivers do really sucks.... hipster ones even more so cause they apparently don't know or think they do.  They just think people are trying to pick up on them while they lay waste to other cars.

There's no crying in baseball!

I was cutting onions, swear!

When life gives you lemons, she usually cuts them open and squeezes them straight in your eyes.

How the fuck am I supposed to make a lemonade out of that?!