Sunday, April 26, 2009

R.I.P. Bea Arthur.

I used to love this show when I was young. I just loved Maude.

I always thought Bea Arthur was hilarious.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Proof of life.

Finally got a chance to get some pics of The Boy's new car. He was 'detailing' it in the driveway.

Friday, April 24, 2009

FaceCrack has got me again.

FaceCrack has got me in its grip again, I am currently addicted to

This application lets you create a farm, work on other farms and harvest your crops for cash.

This is my farm, not much to look at, I know.

I am at the point now where I have nothing to do but wait for the crops to get more money, not sure what the hell I do with all the money.

Buy more crops I guess.

For now I am lurking in the market place for something to do, need work so I don't have to just sit and watch the corn grow.

I really need to get a life.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

I know I can't prove it but...

The Boy finally got his car and believe it or not TBF paid the whole shot.

Nice car, red, sporty.

If he ever hauls his ass out of it I might be able to post a photo but right now I only see it in the middle of the night.

Just waiting for him to run out of gas.

Stay tuned.

It's like this one, only with a fin thing on the back.

This will get ya.

You wanna cry like a baby? Give a listen to this song, Brothers by Dean Brody.

The house was like a tomb.
I was hiding in my room.
As my brother made his way on down the hall.

I didn't want to say goodbye.
And I was trying to deny there was a war,
And that he got the call.

I watched him from my window
Walking down the drive.
Then I ran down the stairway
Through the front door and I cried

You come back you hear?
And I let him see my tears
I said I'll give you my rookie of DiMaggio.
I'll do anything you want,
Clean your room, or wash your car.
I'll do anything so long as you don't go.
But he said, this is what brothers are for.

Well I have my heroes,
But the one I love the most
Taught me how to hunt and swing a bat.
And I wrote him every night,
I said I miss our pillow fights,
But lately I just wonder where you're at.

Sometimes freedom makes it hard to live.
But it takes things from you that you don't want to give.

I said you come back you hear?
I miss you being near.
Laugh and fish down in the maple grove

I'll do anything you want.
There must be someone I can call,
And just maybe they would let you come back home.
But he wrote, this is what brothers are for.

I may never have to face the anger of those guns,
Or lie cold and wounded in my blood,
Or know the sacrifice and what it must of cost
For him to love me that much.

Well, it had been two years,
And I held back my tears
When I saw him in that wheel chair on the shore.

And as I ran and held him tight,
That's when he looked me in the eye
And said I'm sorry that you have to push me home.
And I said hey, this is what brothers are for.

Country songs will get you every single time.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

It's BBQ Season!

Shut up! It is so!

I went for groceries the other day and all the grilling meat was on sale. Pork chops, steak, kabobs. Definitely a sign that BBQ season is finally here. So, of course, I stock up. After all, that is how I roll. I don't cook but I do BBQ.

I am lugging all this meat, potatoes and salad makings, not to mention the full tank of propane up two flights of stairs, dreaming about the feast to come.

I put all the groceries away, wrap up the potatoes in tinfoil and carry them to the BBQ. I hoist the tank into position and grab the hose to connect it and it comes off in my hand. WTF?

I look under it and it is all rotted out. NOOOOOO! I have all this BBQ stuff and now no BBQ. After five minutes of contemplation and the realization that even boiling water inside my apartment sets the fire alarm off, I head off to Wally World. There is no way I can cook this shit inside my house, I need a new BBQ.

I hate Walmart. I mean really hate Walmart, but it has to be done. I won't bore you with the details, but it ended in a standoff with the greeter. Again it ended with me informing him that he could only frisk me in the event the alarm went off.

Anyway, 7:20pm I exit the store.

I thought about waiting for The Boy to hoist this huge box up the stairs but, of course, I don't have the patience and I am starving at this point.

I crack open the box at the top of the stairs and my heart sinks. In no way does this look easy. Its in a million pieces. An hour later I only have the legs put together and I am freezing my ass off. So, I lug it all into the kitchen.

This would be much easier with actual instructions, but all I get is diagrams.

And this is just the first 8 steps, there are 16 in all.

At least it came with tools and a thousand screws. Groan!

Getting the legs together nearly broke me. Don't look too impressed, I put this together backwards, this is the second attempt.

The carnage continues. Sammy is not impressed.

Finally, at 11pm, (three and a half hours after purchase) I am BBQing.

I was freezing my ass off but it was soooo worth it.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Dude, we need a plan.

So I went to the dentist after four years of my teeth rotting in my head. Avoiding hot and cold and remembering to chew only on my left side. I hate the dentist, can you tell? He prescribes me Atavan, nuf said.

After four years I expected some changes but the second I walked in (precisely on time) I was whisked into the chair by the younger of the two dentists. It was like he was trying to break the speed record for dentistry.

More like an assembly line, he just got me in the chair and said, "So, what are we doing today?"

I am sitting there white knuckled and he is suited up and ready to dig in.

"How should I know? Your the dentist, have a look around."
He looks at me all stunned like and says nothing. I guess that means I am on. "Uh, ok it feels like this one might be broken?"

"Great! I can fix that right up." and he comes at me with that steal pole with the hook.

"WHOA! Uh, in case you haven't noticed, I am a white-knuckler and if you are just using that pole to get a reaction out of me I can stop you right there and tell you unequivocally that you will indeed get a reaction. One that might jeopardize your future reproductive plans. I can't even stick my fingernail between my teeth and it hurts."

"Uh huh." That is all I get out of him so I proceed to tell him other teeth that I think might have a problem but he has got his heart set on this one. He is fascinated by it. I think he figures it is quick and most likely costly and he can quite possibly get in a round of golf before supper.

I give in and let him have at it.

I was right, it didn't take long and surprisingly he didn't hurt me at all. Not even the needle. This gives me an unprecedented burst of confidence that I can do this. I can have all my teeth fixed!

Now he is starting to give me the bum's rush. Telling me to have a nice day etc.

"Hold it!" Again with the stunned look.

"Dude, there is a reason I have not been here in four years. I don't know if you are aware of this rare opportunity. I am here and you did not hurt me. I am prepared to have all my teeth fixed. We need to have a plan." I am thinking, at least x-rays, another appointment scheduled, something. This guy must have kids he needs to send to college, right?

Maybe he is not grasping this, probably because he is new and I have only seen him once before. The old guy (senior dentist) the one who actually prescribed the Atavan, would understand this window of opportunity that was about to slam shut.

"Dude, you got me here after four years, I have just had one of the best experiences at the dentist that anyone has ever had. You need to get on it, keep this momentum going or I will end up forgetting this experience and remember why I haven't been to a dentist in four years."

He sits back, clearly he has missed something and now he is ready to be enlightened.

"I am of an age where I have had bad experiences with the dentist. I am talking really bad. I have had the knee on the chest while he tries to yank a tooth for an hour experience. I have had an old drunk guy come at me with ether and a dirty rag. I have woken up, disoriented on a filthy mattress on the floor with the stench of vomit filling the room. Right now I am feeling good, you need to preserve this memory."

He tries to tell me that that sort of thing doesn't happen anymore.

I raise my hand "You can say whatever you like but I am like a holocaust survivor, I realize the shower is probably safe but you are still gonna have to shove me in it."

I leave with x-rays, another appointment and a clear plan of action.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Warm Pants

A fleeting pleasure?

Yes, but totally worth waiting in front of the dryer in your underwear.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Homeward Bound.

Well it lasted a year and I never really thought he would make it this long living in that house.

I never understood why he was there in the first place, but I guess he thought that at some point TBF would have an epiphany and realize what a great kid he had and that he should treat him as such.

Unfortunately, he didn't just have TBF to contend with, he also had TBF's girlfriend. And for whatever reason, they just didn't get along.

Now she did not just meet The Boy last year, she met TBF when The Boy was two. You would think she would be more attached to The Boy, but she is not that kind of person. How to describe it? She is not a very affectionate person, even with her own kids. This is something that bothered TBF but not to the extent to where he would lift a finger to correct the behavior.

The tension started when the girlfriend started searching The Boys room on a daily basis. She would find the odd proof of drug use (marijuana, big fuckin' deal) but would not confront The Boy about it. She would just take the stuff without a word. Like, what the fuck is the point? Anyway. Ever since she started doing this The Boy has taken to leaving notes for her. In his sock drawer, etc. Just little notes that say, basically, I know what you are doing, get a life.

That is just the tip of the iceberg. Not really sure what her problem is with The Boy but last week he stayed home from school. (He's 18, he can make that decision)But as it turns out, I knew he slept in, he messaged me and asked me to drive him to school. I of course was asleep and didn't get the message. The girlfriend however was at home and for whatever reason, couldn't bring herself to pop her head in the door and tell The Boy he would be late for school. She just waited for him to miss the bus and texted his father to rat him out. (Sounded to me like she set him up, but that's just me.) Then she left a dirty note saying that if he left the house he could pack his bags and get out. Harsh.

Well, of course he went out. He came to my house to help me paint the kitchen. It wasn't long after she got home that she was messaging me to come and get his shit.

Now, I am not sure where she is getting her parenting advice, but skipping school one day is not grounds for throwing your child out on the street.The Boy and his father just ignored her. The Boy did not move out.

Well, last night she was rooting through his stuff again and found an old note he left in one of his guitar bags. Apparently she lost her mind and TBF called me to tell me that The Boy had to move out.

I wanted to say, "Grow a pair, will ya?" but I didn't. Between you and me, I would rather he was home here with me. At least while he was here, his fathers stinginess was not in his face.

So, since TBF can't seem to grow a pair, The Boy is home. Hopefully to stay.

Happy Easter

Saturday, April 11, 2009

No news is good news.

All is right with the world, so the blog has been abandoned. Nothing is pissing me off as of late. The boy is doing great, TBF is cooperating with the concept of helping The Boy get a car. I even went to the mall without incident.

This is most disturbing.

But hey, we are expecting snow tonight. I might get a little agitated. Here's hoping.

Let me check the newspapers, I will get back to you.