Note to self...

Never go see your doctor to have your blood pressure checked after running around doing errands in lunchtime traffic, drinking coffee and eating an entire bag of jelly beans.

And don't try and talk your way out of it.....She has an automated machine, 159 over 96.

The woman is very droll, "It is higher if you talk."

"Ok, I will shut up now." It didn't help. I failed the test

Just for that I get blood tests, pelvic exam and a mammogram next time. (Looking forward to having my tit pop liked a zit when the hydraulics malfunction.)

The bitch is not playin'.

Summer vacation is over. Thank Fuck!

Sometimes the boy will ask a question I know the answer to, but don't. Does that make sense?

Mostly he will ask me questions that he knows I don't have the answer to and could never know.

"Why is the sun yellow?"

Ok, I could probably find out the answer to that, but I am busy catching up on live feed updates for Big Brother and I don't give a fuck why the sun is yellow. He does this, I realize, just to get on my last fucking nerve. I can not wait until school starts.

He sees that I am reading something, so he starts.

"What is Labour day?"

"It's a holiday for workers."

"But why do schools have it off?"

"Teachers work."

"But why..." I know he really doesn't give a flying fart about any of this, he is just trying to bug me. I should have called the little bastard Butt Why, he says it enough.

"Why are you wondering about this? You have Google, don't you?"

So, here it is. Everything you ever wanted to know about Labour Day.

Have a good one.

Brain Fart.

A little back story. Last (I think it was October) I had the cable disconnected. I never really watched it because I usually just downloaded the shows off the internet. The Boy, however, is a man and as such must be able to sit and stare at the screen while he flips though all the channels. Something to do with the addition of the Y chromosome.

Anyway, I had to talk him into it but to save money I dumped the cable. Even when you do that, if you keep the actual wire connected it does give you a bit of residual cable signal. So you get some really fuzzy reception, but better than nothing.

I was telling the downstairs neighbor this and she said..."Just hook up to mine." Great, free cable. I hooked up the line that we had going through the heating ducts. (I should mention it is a black wire while the one from the cable company is white.) It wasn't all that clear but it was free. The Boy's second connection to this was even less clear.

Fast forward. I am sitting on the couch watching the fuzzy news when I suddenly think I might be able to get the boys to come in a little clearer if he had a direct connection to the line coming from downstairs or maybe it was the splitter itself that was the problem. I decide to test it by hooking my TV up directly without the splitter.

As I am rummaging around behind the TV, sorting through the maze of cords and wires, thinking it might be a good idea to get rid of the Vonage cables that were all over the place, I see a second white wire. Huh? Where is that coming from? I try and follow it, one is going through the living room and into my room, and the other? Nowhere.

Apparently instead of replacing the white wire with the black wire, I just hooked the black wire into the mix. I little more boost to the signal but it was going back and forth so many times through the house and connecting....well long story short. I take the black wire from the heating duct and plug it into the back of my TV.


The Boy's jaw goes slack. "What the hell?" Clear as a bell on every channel. I start to laugh like a nut. I explain what I did.

I have had full cable service for seven months and didn't even know it. The Boy is not impressed. I think it's hilarious.

Another reason The Boy will need therapy.

I was reminded of a story.

I have to tell you another story first, like a setup. Otherwise this one won't make sense.

When The Boy was about 3 I was trying one day to get his attention. Calling his name over and over and he was completely ignoring me. Finally he turns to me with the snootiest look on his face, like some kind of royal prince and said, "You will address me as Chuck." I kid you not.

For about a month, he would answer to no other name and referred to himself in the third person. "Chuck would like a cookie." Or, "Chuck will be watching TV in his room." Always using that same snooty tone. He would also not wear certain clothes, saying they were not his, they were The Boy's. That sort of thing. He was three.

Eventually he got bored and dropped it.

Fast forward.

When the boy was 6 or so he was being a real demon. Spouting shit like he didn't have to be a good boy. I was not the boss of him, and I couldn't make him do anything. If I touched him he would call the police. (Even then he watched too much Oprah)

Anyway I was about at the end of my rope. When I finally grabbed a hold of him by the front of his shirt, pulled him close so we were face to face and said in my best Clint Eastwood, Dirty Harry voice, "You used to have an older brother. His name was Chuck!"

The look on his face was priceless. I could see that he vaguely remembered a mention of someone named Chuck, he just couldn't remember where.

He was an angel....for about a week.