Oh, So Much More

Hello Beautiful.  Yesterday, I really wanted to be here, decompressing, taking off my bra and settling in to be holed up for days on end with plenty of coffee and half and half, incentive to write, and a new bullet vibrator.  Interestingly or not, not the point, I have been pondering owning my blog(ging) in the meat world, inviting the folks I know to read my smut... elsewhere, most likely.  I will be returning to my same school next year, which may be the one school on Earth I could get away with a slutty alter-ego.  But, probably I really couldn't.  I've literally asked, "Would I want my mother to read this?"  Likely, she would be like a number of people I know in the meat world who know I "blog" and don't really give a shit or read, but I just can't give up my bulletesque statements up there, and neither can I imagine the parents of students I teach nor my mother loving me the same way in light of them.  True or no, not the point.  There was a conscious decision made to continue this on without paragraph breaks, just so you know. 

So, what happened?  To the plans to hole up for days on end in 12 hours, yesterday?  There was a computer incident on my work computer, the cause of which is shameful, thankfully.  I imagine that playing some inane fb game allowed some trash into my system, and things looked like a hard drive crash, but only on my account, and already this story is boring me.  Push come to shove when you get right down to it when the finger's on the button down to the wire, it may and/ or may not have been caused by that, but really, it's better that I think that, so I quit wasting my time with such nonsense.  And, it probably was the cause.  So, yesterday, I didn't write this, but this wouldn't have been this, whatever is is, without those critical 12 hours in between, only 4.5 of which were devoted to sleep, but this is preferrable to 5 hours, even, since 4.5 is a multiple of 1.5, and if you don't understand that, consider yourself not told the importance (there is none).

I think I was riding on a high horse when I yesterday wrote something to somebody about not wanting to stoop to making the past wrong, but, I'm pretty sure, that's what I do near incessantly.  I'm all about living in the present, in theory, and I think I do a pretty good job of it when I'm alone, but oh, maybe there's something to generalize there, but instead I was interrupted by a nice conversation with a fellow at my work, and the angstful moment slipped away.  In order to save this post, to have the Southpark lesson, I'll have to recharge on the ennui, but for now, meh.  Incidentally, I just watched an episode of South Park with my kids the other day (incriminating, but not so much as another thing*), and their "We're Gonna need a Montage" song has been stuck in my head below the surface ever since.  It's quite good, and if I knew where a good copy of the video was, I'd link to it, but I don't.  Not offhand. 

*My son and I have been enjoying the soundtrack to the Broadway musical The Book of Mormon.  (OMGLMAO) I'm pretty sure I'm gonna burn in hell for buying it almost for him, but for me, too.  It seems I'm going to have to explain what, "Man up all over yourself," means.  Or maybe not.  He asked, but I really coudn't have answered him then, but maybe I shouldn't.  Or, maybe, information is just what it is and it's a good segue to talking about masturbation in some parental responsibility capacity, but maybe it will be clear enough when it is, and eww, washing brain with soap.  I could ask his dad, but I'm such a part-time control freak, I imagine I would be more sex positive, but who the hell are we kidding?  We aren't even a we.  It's just me over up in here.  "Permission not to decide right now and not to feel bad for not deciding right now.  Permission granted."  There, in the spirit of The Book of Mormon the musical, I have shown how Star Trek as religion has entered my psyche.  They're more Star Wars.  I'm more Star Trek (Next Generation).  We're accepting of those beliefs around here, though.  That imaginary we I've slipped back into.  We're gonna need a montage. 

Have I mentioned how, now that my school is out, once I undo the pile of wrap-it-up stuff I have to do to really finish the year, I'm gonna make everything better!  I'm gonna declutterfy and rent a carpet cleaner and paint and walk daily and catch up on sleep and blog and cook and go to AA meetings and clean out that closet and camp and swim without getting water on the brain and visit my dad and do yoga and meditate and make kombucha and make money and write a screenplay and ride bikes with the boys and get them together with their friends and read books and make a budget and write erotica and don't forget poetry or to start early to lesson plan for next year. Summer vacation. Somewhere in there I'll become suitable for consumption, ie. sex, again. Once, I'm worthy. I'm not like the lady in the picture (really). She's actually thin imagining she's not. I've definitely lost my groove/ gotten more realistic, and consequently less ambitious and almost depressed, but that's just the work work work of the end of the year talking (and the ice cream belly).

That was a good place to stop, but apparently, there's more.  Oh, so much more.


On Perry for President

Good lord, I hope I haven't been right since before the 2008 election when I asserted (as many have, I know) that Rick Perry would put his hat in the ring in the 2012 election cycle. What could be seen 3,000 miles away is ever closer, and for once I wish I were wrong. He is sooo slick and cruel. Just the polished sort of candidate the GOP needs.

Check out this video some of my fb friends have been sharing of Texas Representative Senfronia Thompson who is fed up with the sort of treatment women have received by the Texas legislature, under the leadership of Perry.

This is on the coattails of Perry's prized Sonogram Bill. While schools across Texas are closing due to budget cuts, Perry put this forth as emergency legislation (along with stricter voter id standards) which requires a woman to get a sonogram before being able to get an abortion in Texas. It's another financial obstacle for a woman already going through a hard time, which is the way of those in power.


I Really Want to Tell You About How My Van Was Raptured...

... but it seems I have one more week of tribulations before I catch a phat ass break.

I shall see you and be with you, in the biblicalest of senses, before you're finished with your looting.

-Freida of the Bees


The Things Mothers Do For The Ones They Love

"Don't worry Oscar, Lenny, Brenda, and Travis.  If Mama's goin' down (pun only partially intended, but not really because there are the offspring fish to consider and that's just sick, ya sicko), you're going down with her."

Happy Mother's Day.  Of course, you had your slightly burned, but slathered with love, waffles long ago.  You called your mother, and your grandmother, for good measure.  If you're a real suck up, you called your mother-in-law and made her day.  She still talked about you to her sister, like she does every Sunday, but this time she felt a little more guilt than usual, so kudos on that.

Of course, these are all of the things you might be experiencing if you fall for those stereotypical scenarios, willingly or otherwise.  I'm sure I'm in the middle.  "Of what?" you might ask to which I'd have to say a jelly roll, but you know I'm a liar.  I'm actually sitting in the middle of a big fat turd flake, today.

Here I am at work on Mother's Day.  Boo fucking hoo.  Here I am sick.  Did I cry today?  Yes, but that was probably only because my body said no coffee and you know there's all that suppressed tiredness that got me jumpin' the shark on up over in here (whatever that means).  Coffee is my last vestige of addiction (if you don't count food, sex, kombuchas, whining, my phone, tv, and the internets), so I am allowed to mourn the loss of her java ways.  I have avoided moving into full-on anxiety attacks this coffee go around, but we all know it's only a matter of time before she turns my cruel alertness to matters best not thought about, like how fast my heart is beating while I'm dying.

I suspect I am mourning things other than coffee, as well, but my co-worker who replaces me just showed up, so I probably won't go into all that.  Suffice it to say, another McSweeney's List was submitted and last night I laughed my cajones off watching Ladiez being funny.  Right off.  Catharsis, people.  Catharsis.  There is one three-day school week left and two four-day ones, a field trip to NASA with a bunch of hormone infused tweens (including The Genius) and probably no sex until school is out.  (How clever to slip a complaint about no sex in there after all this time, though upon re-reading, quite ineptly, since it's adjoined to a sentence about chaperoning a field trip of 6th graders.)

But, seriously I'm in a hurry on up over in here.  I'm just gonna flip this swi

SNL Covers the GOP 2012 Undeclared Candidates Debate... Perfectly


A Week in the Life of the Entitled

Oh hey oh.  Just livin' it up over in here at my work, chillaxin' on a Sunday mornin' comin' down on the internets.  I can't directly speak for the entitled, unless being under a financial hardship student loan deferment qualifies me, which I don't think is the case, but having been formerly entitled, and currently the parent of the entitled, I feel, er, entitled to speak for the entitled.

I couldn't rightly tell you what my entitled children are up to while I'm here at my work, because I have been working nearly every weekend for the past five years and don't see them on Saturdays and Sundays, but I assure you it involves decadent amounts of cereal that no doubt you, the tax payer, are paying for in some indirect manner (most likely through funding overseas wars that make the gas his dad used to drive to the grocery store to buy the cereal possible).  The socialism of it!  I know. 

My two sons are spoiled by the fruits of this great country with their exorbitant CHIP coverage.  I know I should be ashamed, but it's just such good health care coverage that I am hardly sorry.  There, I said it!  It's not too often we use their healthcare coverage, twice a year, but I did go fill that prescription so Snaggletooth could have Epi-Pens at school, his dad's, and my house in the event he gets stung by a bee and has a life-threatening reaction.  I'm a greedy fuck, I know.  Also, there was that time I went and got him diagnosed as colorblind from that theivin' socialist eye doctor.  I know, and I'm sorry.  Other than that, we've been meager entitled people.  My children are dutifully healthy and save for one bout of pneumonia The Genius indulged, I've been a good mother.  (That was several years ago, so I hope you won't hold it against us.)

You see, though I work 60+ hours a week, I am not able to provide my sons with health insurance.  My daughters are covered by the state, but that is because the ex-Mr. Bee works for the state and they are covered though his employment.  I'm not sure if that's socialism or not.  That's a borderline scenario, but one might say the whole lot of 'em, the ex Mr. Bee and my daughters, are entitled, as well.

I, however, am blissfully not entitled at the moment.  I may need dental work, but I patch together enough pay to survive between part-time teaching, security guardin', tutoring, housecleaning, and the occasional trick*, but believe you me I'm not doing it with an impeccable smile.  You're welcome, taxpayer.

I was formerly entitled.  I shamefully received Pell Grants and unsubsidized student loans I thought might even be forgiven since I went into that socialist racket called teaching, but lucky for you, taxpayer, so many public school cuts have occurred, a middle grades certified math teacher with a math degree from one of the premier teaching programs in the US cannot find a job these days.  Lucky for you, teaching positions are being cut right and left.  You Libertarians might be happy to know I got a job in a private school were it not for the fact that it's a non-profit with low-ish tuition that struggles to keep its doors open enough that it cannot afford to provide me with health insurance.  What up, private sector?

I was once a shamefully entitled whore.  I selfishly got myself dumped by the Mr. Bee before the ex-Mr. Bee and became a single mother at 23.  Though I cleaned a midwife's house (for years!) to barter the home births 
of my daughters, it was with Medicaid in hand that I selfishly transferred to the hospital during my labor of The Lip Model to have my 24 hour labor induced.  I know, and I'm sorry.

While the Pope is washin' my feet over in here, I might as well say that I got my thyroid removed on the taxpayer's dime during a three month period when Mr. Bee was unemployed and we were doing bonafide welfare that one time 8 years ago, shortly after Snaggletooth was born.  I'm sorry I'm not a crazy hyperthyroid (albeit skinny) loon any more, but I pulled my entitled self up from my bootstraps after that and went back to school for the next six years to get where I am, now a (whole lot in student loan debt) single mom (with fabulous equal custody baby-daddy support) with four children.

Let's not devote a paragraph to my relief that in some Tuesday in the next month I can skip my sliding scale women's group to go to a once a week clinic that will renew my thyroid medicine, and if I'm feeling really selfish, look into this bruised feeling that's been persisting the last few months between my left breast and shoulder blade. God,I hope it's not breast cancer or some shit.  Ok, we won't.
This week my single-parent family unit departed from our usual entitled routine a bit when our mini-van broke down.  Since mommy can't afford a new alternator until she gets paid (after she pays the cell phone bill so she can keep the cogs going, after she pays the rent, after she pays the electric, after she buys a new Cadillac), she went and spent money borrowed from her 11 year-old (clearly, entitled) to buy a bike lock, so they could ride their commie pinko bicycles to school for a change.  (The third person references are no doubt side-effects.)

I did cash in on the sweat of a lass more fortunate (has a running (and cute) car) than me by accepting a ride to my weekend job from my lovely neighbor who pitied the prospect of long by bus rides making my 2 12-hour weekend workdays 16 hours long.  She's such a socialist, and I'm thankful for that.

The funny thing is I don't really want a car.  I don't, but I will begrudgingly be spending my precious hard-earned pay to fix the damn machine threatening my children's futures.  (The Genius himself commented on how much cars make the air stink when we were riding our bikes to school Friday.)  But, with our new bike lock, and de-flattened bike tires, we will be adopting riding our bikes to school two days a week.  I'll see how it goes getting to my teaching job Monday- Wednesday via bus, because save for the self-inflicted cruelty of 16 hour days, I'm hoping to stick it to the man (with the equivalence of a feather tickle) by cutting back on my gas-mongering as much as I can.

That's what up in the world of the entitled, but don't take my word for it, check out Cassandra Bang's newest Snarkipedia entry about Entitlement Programs

And, check out her Snarkipedia Channel on YouTube-- All Snark All the Time.

 *Support No Cure for That by spreading the Snarky word and the linky love, por favor.