Why the copious flow of lachrymal fluid, my garrulous canine? - Daffy Duck

Interesting, anyone else realize what an extensive vocabulary Daffy Duck had? Might just be the difference between our cartoons and todays cartoons...who knew it was happening.

ANYWAY, on to the story.

I had a pretty good evening, until about 9:20. That’s when SFHB got home. When I hear that she is home I live in fear of her coming into my room. She came downstairs to use the bathroom and then I heard her knock on my door and Pup’s head came up and he looked towards the door, but I pretended not to notice. Sometimes I hate the innocence of dogs because he just kept looking at the dumb door. So finally I slowly turned and looked behind me and there she was. Apparently a look is enough permission to open the door. I didn’t smile, I didn’t say come in but there she was opening the door. Pup got up and I grabbed a hold of his collar to keep him in place. I had made a cake tonight and so she asked about that, I knew she would. She said, “So, did you make that cake for everyone or just for you?” I said (still looking at my dog…I hadn’t looked at her the whole time she’d been in my room) “It’s for me.” Sometimes I say this, and am serious but I’ll say, “Just kidding,” or I’ll smile or something. But this time I kept looking at the dog, I didn’t look up at her, I didn’t say I was just kidding, I just waited for her to either say something or leave (I was hoping for the leave part).

So then she says, “Oh you’re watching Dr. Quinn,” and she kept talking about how much she used to watch it when she was younger (believable with the amount of TV she watches). Johnny Cash was in the episode I was watching so she starts to go off on how she had never realized Johnny Cash was on the show…uh, probably for the same reason I never realized it, we didn’t know who he was when we were younger. I was ten when the episode came out and she was probably 13. Then she goes on about how the show was filmed near her house in California. Just like I’ve heard a million different times before about how certain shows were filmed near her house, or sometimes she’ll say, “You know this building from this movie? That’s right near my house in Utah (or California),” or “that’s where my high school had prom.” Blah, blah, blah, apparently every damn thing I’ve watched was filmed near her house. It’s so annoying to try to watch something with someone saying they lived near the scene.

So I’m still holding Pup back with my hand and she says I can let him go but I tell her I don’t want him to jump. The reality was that I needed something to be “involved” in, kind of like when I pretend to be asleep during awkward, annoying, or stressful conversations. Unfortunately I can’t be one of two people in a conversation and suddenly pretend to fall asleep…it only works in group settings where I’m not a pivotal converser. I’m no narcoleptic –maybe I could pretend to develop it. Do you think I could pull it off?

Anyway, she asked how my day went, I said it went well; it was Friday so it was good. Finally she gave me the play by play of her evening…finish making dinner and watching TV. Exciting, thanks for telling me, I don’t know what I would have done without that information.

You Can't Sit With Us!

I'm obviously on a Mean Girls movie quote kick.

Last night Diva, Short Stop, and Actuary came over to watch Le’ Office (it’s The Office in English). Diva had asked that afternoon if they could come and I told her that would be fine, but if SFHB bugs me (because I knew chances were high that she would be glued to the love seat) that I would retreat to my bedroom. For the season premiere of The Office that seemed permissible to her and they came over close to 9.

I was downstairs in my room when they came so SFHB answered the door. They came down (luckily not followed by SFHB) to see my room. We had the door closed because my dog was in the room so they took that opportunity to tell me that when they came in and told SFHB what they were there for she said, “I don’t think she has cable in her room.”

…SFHB, let’s sit down and have a chat here, you know I don’t have cable in my room. Even if I did why would four people try to squeeze unto my one couch anyway when there are more than enough comfortable seats in the living room? Why is the living room her room all the time? Why do I have to ask her if we can watch The Office? Why the hell has she been in the same spot since I got home at 5 o’clock and it’s now 9 o’clock?? But, you know, whatever.

So we watch The Office with SFHB, who by the way didn’t move at all when we came in and asked if we could watch, she laid on the love seat while Diva, Actuary and I sat on the couch and Short Stop took the recliner. It’s not like it was a terrible inconvenience but you could move a little to show you’re at least willing to share. No one probably wanted to sit by her anyway, and it’s not a good spot if you want to watch the TV, unless you can lean back or lay on it. So, that’s me trying to give her the benefit of the doubt (enjoy it, it won’t happen often).

After the show was over the girls got up to leave and Short Stop starts saying how she’s going to get up on fast Sunday and bear her testimony about how wonderful we are because we let them come in their time of need to watch the show. Then I piped up saying that she could only thank me because I was the only person who helped them out (this was because I had picked up on the fact that Short Stop was mocking MM about how she went off on how wonderful Tyrant was and how she was the only one who helped paint the house). So then one of them (can’t remember who) said that they should thank Pack Rat and that got me laughing because we all knew Pack Rat was out of town. Then they threw in Moxie too. I thought it would be funny because they would thank people who weren’t even there. But since they did eat Moxie’s candy it seemed appropriate to thank her for the evening.

After they left SFHB started to talk about how they were mocking MM and she asked me how they could still live with her after they knew what she’s like…my response, “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do because we already agreed to do them.” Just so you know, I didn’t have MM and them in mind; I had me living with SFHB in mind. She took my line and said, “I know, I mean, I’m living with you.” She probably really did mean it as a joke, but I took the opportunity to go to my room and pretend to be upset. I kind of hope she did mean it, because things are better when feelings are mutual.

I Just Have A Lot Of Feelings

Last night Moxie and I got a pleasant surprise – SFHB had to work. I had worried at lunch time that she would be home for the rest of the day, because she had walked in the door while I was cleaning my dishes. Now, understand that I didn’t expect anyone to come home while I was there for lunch, Moxie rarely comes home for lunch; Pack Rat is out of town, and from what I recalled it was an long day for SFHB. So when I heard the door open I held on tighter to the frying pan I was cleaning and leaned back to see who it was. I told SLHB I almost killed her. She seemed confused and I contemplated leaving it at that, but I finally told her I wasn’t expecting anyone to come home. Then she proceeded to tell me about her stomach problems (she’s such the Antagonizer – for any long time reader, and I don’t think I have any of those anymore, Sweet Pea would have been it, you might recall a time when the Antagonizer ate pizza or Arby’s or something for the first time in a long time. Then she went on to explain how much it upset her stomach. Well, newsflash, I don’t dictate what you eat, so don’t complain about it to me.)

Ahem, back to the point. Before I leave SFHB has brought her laptop down and placed it on the love seat, preparing to take her usual spot. So I come back to work a little bummed because at two in the afternoon she has already taken to molding in with the couch cushions (p.s. if this doesn’t stop she’ll be paying my portion for the cable bill). I warned Moxie too that she would be home tonight. But when I pulled up to the house after work her car was gone. I didn’t get too excited because she easily could have just gone on a shopping trip, but when I got home from my meeting last night and I found that she still wasn’t home I did a silent halleluiah. Then I got to hang out with Moxie which was nice because we never really get to hang out when SFHB is home, mostly because we both try to avoid her and since SFHB will follow Moxie into my room if she comes to talk and I’d have to pass SFHB playing guard dog on the love seat to get to Moxie’s room, we just don’t see each other.

So last night was pretty neat. Then we sat down on the couches to watch some TV. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve actually watched a TV show. Most of this is due to me not watching TV at all, but I still like certain shows and have one or two recorded so that one day I can watch, it’s been a long time coming. So Moxie and I are watching (mind you this is one hour of TV, just one. I wish we could charge by the amount of time spent sitting in front of the TV because Moxie and I should just have to pay for the one hour we spent in front of it this week) and guess who comes in. The most annoying thing to me, scratch that, it’s not the most annoying, but it’s on my top ten list, is when SFHB walks into a room and you happened to be in mid sentence and she says, “What’s that?” and every fiber of your being that’s screaming, “ignore her!” is fighting with every sense of morality that you have that is screaming, “Be nice!” (that feeling sucks). So Moxie and I had been in mid conversation when the dreaded door opened and SFHB’s very first words were, “What’s that?” and I didn’t look back and I contemplated not answering and I can’t remember who did answer, me or Moxie, but there was a definite pause before one of us did. (P.S. I was on the love seat and I purposefully sat in the middle of the cushions).

So that last thing is on my permanent top ten list of things that SFHB does that annoy me. But for the temporary list of last night one thing reigned supreme (at least in my memory). Moxie paused the show to go change her laundry, I took the opportunity to move my stuff down to my room, mostly because I had a netflix video on top of my laptop and I didn’t want SFHB to ask me what movie I got, or worse to help herself to pulling the movie out to see it, but I never explained that to Moxie because I have learned that SFHB has impeccable hearing. Moxie told me I had to finish the show because she thought I was retiring for the night and I explained I was just putting my stuff in my room. After checking out some new “clothes” that Moxie purchased and after she put everything into the dryer we went back upstairs to finish the last couple minutes of the show. We come up to see that SFHB is sitting on the couch; about in the same spot that Moxie had been sitting (she didn’t touch the love seat, probably because she fears me as she should). Moxie and I stop however, and Moxie (named rightly so) says, “Uh, that’s my seat.” To which SFHB replies (pay attention because I will dissect this statement shortly), “Oh I thought you guys were done.” Why does this statement aggravate me and top the charts? Let’s review.

First, Moxie paused the show; this means that on the television screen is a frozen image of the show/commercial in which Moxie decided to pause the show. So as SFHB sat down she would have seen the frozen images and should have been able to clearly deduce that we were in fact not finished watching the show.

Second, I know SFHB has good hearing so I know that she heard Moxie tell me I had to finish watching the show. The word finish typically means that there is more remaining, that you are in fact not done.

I thought I could dissect further but work keeps pulling me away from writing and I’ve lost anything else that was creatively insulting. Not that it takes creative genius to insult SFHB, it’s oh so easy. But seriously folks, let’s take a poll, do you think she was dropped on her head as a baby thus permanently damaging her capacity for social interaction? Because something is up with that chick.

My favorite part of last night would be shortly after SFHB came home she grabbed the trash and asked if it was trash (uh….duh) and then proceeded to take it out. I looked over at Moxie because she had said something earlier about taking it out later. But as I looked at Moxie she was staring straight ahead at the TV not mentioning anything to SFHB about her earlier intentions, I quickly followed suit. I have much to learn.

After the show was over Moxie and I packed it up and went to our separate rooms, leaving SFHB to her usual station in the living room. This morning the pillows weren’t put back where they had been on the couches (a pet peeve of Moxie). Seriously, Moxie, write a passive aggressive note and tape it to the couch about leaving the pillows in place OR putting them back how you found them. It could be something like, “Dear SFHB, I would appreciate if after a long day of sitting on the couch you would return the pillows to how they had been when you decided to set your rear down for the remainder of your 16 hours you spend awake. I know that it can be difficult to remember exactly how the pillows were placed because of the long intervals of time that you spend on the couch, so if it will help I’m willing to take a picture of how the couches should look on a regular basis so you’ll have something to follow. Thank you!” I’ll totally take a picture and send it into the passive aggressive blog and we can be semi famous.

You'll Always Be Your Own Hero

By popular request (even one person makes it popular), Motor Mouth’s lesson as heard from SFHB, exaggerated no doubt by myself, and the epitome of why I wish Tyrant would listen to my sound advice.

Or maybe I should start off with the fact that several months ago when we had out very first meeting as a presidency, SFHB and I told Tyrant that we did not think MM should ever be called as a teacher, though she has been vying for the “position” for a long time, and why not? People like Motor Mouth love a captive audience and the only thing they love more than that is the sound of their own voice. So of course MM tried to obtain a calling as a teacher for these very reasons I’m sure. I think I may have even told Tyrant that if MM were called as a teacher I wouldn’t come to church anymore. (I think we are approaching that point).

Tyrant has done a bang up job of calling new teachers by the way. She has a manic depressant teaching second Sunday, MM teaching third Sunday, and a well known backstabbing man hunter teaching fourth Sunday. None of these three were particularly active, nor has their attendance been on the rise, but they do all however do their calling, which is nice, but maybe not so nice for the girls attending the ward. I’m not saying I’m a good teacher, I’m far from it and I’m sure I bore the girls beyond compare, however, having been the former Education counselor I’m a snob about certain things.

#1 Teachers are to end the lesson five minutes till the hour, we have to sing and pray at the end and five minutes seems to be the adequate amount of time.

#2 The lessons are supposed to be a discussion about the lesson in the manual, the hope is that the girls will read it before class. Pick out certain parts, ask a question, and let the discussion begin. Teachers are more facilitators rather than preachers.

#3 With #2 in mind, please don’t talk the entire time, a rule we had in training was don’t talk longer than the age of the youngest person in the room. (If the youngest person is 18 then take a break after 18 minutes and have other people talk). However, I have changed this to a shorter amount of time for church purposes…try to take a break every 5 minutes or so.

#4 As much as you want to tell us about your life and what’s concerning you right now, there is a designated subject and an excellent, inspired manual to keep you on track. Use it. No really, that’s not a suggestion, that’s an order. I don’t care about how your week went, unless it directly relates to the subject that the manual is telling you to teach don’t tell me about it.

That’s all I can think of for right now.

So on to the lesson that I was not myself able to witness but have heard it from the mouths of two to three witnesses.

To begin the lesson MM gets up and tells everyone about how great Tyrant is. Just to let you know, Tyrant was not there on Sunday, so this brown nosing was pointless unless she was treated us as Hitler Youth and trying to brainwash us into believing how great she is and why we should resist and just follow (don’t get me wrong, I do like Tyrant, but sometimes she is too much for me). Otherwise the whole thing seems pointless – that is until she starts to tell everyone about how her week went (Violation of Rule 4). MM moved last week, forget that her three roommates also moved, because in her universe she is the sun and everything else revolves around her. She mentions how she wanted her room painted before she moved in so Tyrant came over and stayed up late and came back early Saturday morning to help her with that. She goes on how Tyrant is the only person who helped her. Ahem…from my understand Bull got sick from being in MM’s moldy room too long the weekend before…painting. I could have the details wrong, but part of me thinks not. Either way, this would be the second time MM has pissed me off because she has mentioned that no one else has helped her paint.

Detour – Last weekend I went over to help paint, Petunia was there, as was Bull, their sister, the boy in love with their sister, an awesome married couple, and two of the other girls who were moving into that house, as well as MM herself. I got paint on the bottom of my shoes, on my jeans, on my shirt, on my arm, almost in my eye, and spackled all over my face. I was not playing with the paint, I was painting. As were everyone else. Not to mention Coz went over there on Saturday and helped paint as well. That little event was apparently blocked in MM’s mind because a few days later when she finds out that Pack Rat wants to go help them paint MM says to her, “It’s about time we got some help!” Excuse me MM? What do you call all those people over at your house on Friday night? You know the ones with the paint brushes? Soar backs and necks and not to mention it was flipping hot! Do you recall those people helping you? Because they sure did. But you know what, if she doesn’t want to consider me there to help her she’s actually right, I was there for Diva and the other two girls. I was helping them because I like them. MM unfortunately fell under my service umbrella on this project.

Back to the lesson. So after she finally gets done raving about Tyrant and how wonderful she is (not to mention daft if she is BFF with MM) she goes on to the “lesson”. Which from my understand consisted of her reading from the manual, leaving most to wonder if she had herself read the lesson before venturing to teach it. Because she wasn’t just reading her favorite parts, she was reading from the first word on the first page, all the way through. Every once in a while asking people to read and then asking what it means. (Technical violation of Rule 4 since there are inspired questions at the end of each chapter and she apparently missed those – maybe she planned to read them at the end. Also she is in violation of Rules two and three since she did most of the reading (from my understanding) and she didn’t do a discussion, she did a reading.)

I don’t know if she violated Rule 1. So far (all one times I saw her teach) she ended the lesson on time, but not before weakly trying to joke that if she didn’t we would be mad at her. Little did she know we were already mad that she had the calling in the first place, but don’t place the blame for your long windedness on us, we have nothing to do with those chatty pipes that feel the need to get out what they are trying to say rather than to take questions of comments from the girls. She aggravates me. SFHB was right when she said she was glad I wasn’t there because she felt like I would have gotten up and walked out. I would have. Way near the beginning I would have so that everyone would know that I can bear to listen to her teach, that I can’t sit there with good conscience as she flagrantly deceives the girls into thinking that she is a superior person than she really is, if I hear her talk one more time about the tender mercies of the Lord or about how we cannot go through this life on our own I’ll B-slap her, because she doesn’t mean it. She’ll get up and talk about it on fast Sunday or when she teaches her lesson and then she’ll ignore the rest of church, and she won’t come the other Sundays and in essence she’ll try to do it on her own.

All I can say is that I have not had many opportunities to feel traditionally sorry for SFHB; by traditionally sorry I mean I am sorry for what she had to go through, having to sit through that lesson knowing what a hypocrite MM is. I feel sorry for her on a regular basis but that is because she is so socially inept, not that I’m that great at it, I have awkward social moments on a daily basis, but at least I am aware that I am having them.

I kind of hate that I'm back - but it feels so right.

Face it girls, I'm older and I have more insurance.

I think I've been doing well...don't you? I haven't complained, I haven't gone off (in this blog at least) even my verbal complaining to Moxie hasn't been as bad as it could be. I've felt very sedate since the last blog entry (with the exception of hearing about Motor Mouth's lesson on Sunday...but I had to channel everything somewhere at some time and why not there?) I tried to convince myself that SLHB does not do things on purpose, such as take my spot. I was thinking that I was paranoid, or that I needed a reason to get angry at her so my mind gave me reasons such as, "she knows that's my spot, so she must be parking in it to piss me off." and it was working (both my mind making me angry at her and her pisses me off). But lately I've told myself to not get angry about it, didn't stop me from parking behind her on Monday, thus blocking her in and yes, I did have to move my car when she went to the store, but it was worth it.

So here's a little back story to why I'm writing you so early on a Wednesday morning. Last night Moxie spent the night at her parent's and this morning Pack Rat had to be at the airport a 6:00 in the a.m. So...do the math, that leaves two cars, two people = two cars. I am obviously already parked being as I am sound asleep at 6:00 in the morning. Pack Rat is parked in the street because she's considerate and she'll be out of town until Sunday (thank you Pack Rat...no she doesn't read this). Moxie has her car. Last night when I went to bed Slut faced Ho Bag was parked in the street as well. So this HUGE driveway only had my little car in it. So my dog wakes up at 6:30 (half an hour more and I would have slept until my alarm clock went off...blasted dog).

(Digression, I think I hear her upstairs and if I do I'm going to go run for the shower and beat her to it because I'm being a brat now).

Back to our regular scheduled program. So I let the dog into the backyard to do his deal. I run inside to go to the bathroom real quick and when I come out again I notice the parking situation...I took pictures because I need you to know what I saw this morning. Remember every little detail I told you before, how we have a big driveway, how we're the only ones here. She left this morning and came back, etc. Then look at the pictures.


Yes, I see that I can maneuver my way out of the driveway, I'm not completely blocked in, but that would have been a difficult task to block me in with one P.O.S. vehicle. But take a look at the picture below.

I hope you can see it, I hope you can see that there is a perfectly adequate parking spot to the left, a spot she could have parked in. I have to wonder now if SFHB did this on purpose or if she is just the stupidest person I have ever encountered. I would like to think that she's not the stupidest person, but unfortunately she doesn't leave me much option. And if she's not the most stupidest she has to be the most aggravating.

She's so much like the Antagonizer, and I'm not trying to insinuate anything, but SFHB is part Canadian and so was the Antagonizer....hmmm. But the Antagonizer was cooler because she was also part Australian and she didn't talk to her mom on the phone all the time (I mean ALL the time, Moxie and Diva can back me up on this one).

Anyway, just thought I would give you a little snack so you would know I haven't completely disappeared. Better go get the shower just in case!

If you're going my way, I wanna drive it all night long.

Yesterday I was driving back from North Carolina and met the man of my dreams (this is an obvious exaggeration considering that first, I didn’t actually meet the guy, and secondly, I only knew two or three things about him so how can I be sure?) Now that I’ve made sure you understand that this account is real and yet elaborated I can continue.

It all started when I exited 264 West and merged on to I-95 North. I was passing cars and making good time because I always like to beat the approximate map quest time. I passed by a Mercedes only to be cut off by another one, which bothered me because I’m not going to lie, I have road rage. So I talked to the butt of the Mercedes, telling it how I could pass it if it would just move to the right lane rather than stay in the left (I would have passed on the right but there were other cars a little ways up blocking my passing opportunity). Finally, the Mercedes moved to the right lane and I passed as promised. A few minutes later I see the Mercedes coming up pretty quickly in my rear view mirror. I was cruising at about 90 MPH in the right lane at this point so I let Mercedes pass. But I knew a good opportunity when I saw one so I pulled in behind Mercedes and traveled like this for a good while.

I used to always do this on my drive from Utah to Idaho (or vice versa), I would pick out a car that would help make the trip go by faster, by either always trying to pass, or by driving behind them if they were fast enough. They became my little nameless, faceless friends. It’s strange, I know, but it really did help me on the long drive. So I started to talk to the butt of the Mercedes again, this time saying that it had proved itself worthy and if it lead I would follow. Which I did.

At one point though it fell behind and I passed by, only to have the Mercedes pass back by me a few minutes later. I was curious if my new friend was a boy or girl, only for the reason of being curious. I figured it was a guy the way that it rode on the bumpers of cars that got in its way (thus the reason I let it lead, I’m not like that). So, for the first time in highway buddy history, I tried to sneak a peek at my asphalt companion…and got caught. Yup, the Mercedes driver must have also come down with a bout of curiosity and tried to sneak a peek as well. So there we were, speeding down the interstate, our eyes locked. And not even a split second later (though it felt like longer) he was driving in front of me again. So the three things I know about him, he’s cute, he drives Mercedes and he’s got a lead foot that’s slightly worse than mine.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, but I was able to lead the way out of a sluggish left lane to clearer asphalt right before my exit, and then I had to say 'goodbye' to the only man not frightened by the way I drive. Adieu good looking lead foot man.

I swear if I weren't at work right now!

I promised myself that I wouldn’t get on here and write anything bad about anyone because I’m trying to be a better person (really trying this time). But I got an e-mail from Tyrant this morning asking if we had a year’s worth of activities planned. I wrote back and told her we hadn’t done that yet because we were waiting for our committee and when that happened we would plan our activities (what’s the point of a freaking committee if you don’t use them to help you plan things). It’s the beginning of September, you really think that I thought of planning out 2009!? So I let it go, I wasn’t upset at the time, I just simply told her that we didn’t have that planned yet and she just wrote me back a few minutes ago and said:

“We are planning a budget this Sunday…so I need to know about how much you are planning on spending.”

…I have no clear, coherent, or friendly response to that. I don’t know what to say. So far my e-mail says, “For 2009?!” and I’ve already deleted, “are you crazy?” “There’s no way I can get that information for you.” “I would have to pull the number out of my ass because you didn’t give me any time to even think about it.” “Why the hell are you just telling me this now?”

All I’m saying is that It would have been nice to know before Friday! I’m so flipping mad about this right now. You cannot contact me two days before you need a 12-month calendar and budget telling me you need those things. This information would have been nice a couple of weeks ago, or maybe even on Sunday so I could have had time to actually meet with my Enrichment Leader.

Here’s my e-mail so far:

For 2009? How long have you known about this? Because telling me the Friday before is the stupidest thing in the world. There is no freaking way I can get any of that information to you, do you think I sit around and plan these activities so randomly that on a whim I’d be ready to have them for you? I have a life, I have two jobs, I cannot be expected to pull this information up on two days notice! When I received this calling the one thing I was certain of was that my Enrichment Leader wouldn’t feel like I was taking everything from her and what you are asking me to do, plan a 12 month calendar with activities and also a budget with little chance of being able to even tell my Enrichment Leader is forcing me to do exactly that. I am doing your stupid pool party at the end of September (it’s already too chilly to have one), I have put up with your ideas for activities, told my Enrichment leader about them and we have prepared to do those. All I’m asking for is actual time to plan some decent activities with my Enrichment Leader. It is not okay for you to spring this information on me at 9:30 on a Friday morning telling me that on Sunday you want this information. It’s impossible asshole.

Is it over the top?

It might be. Maybe I should calm down before I write her back. Maybe I should ask to be released from this calling because Tyrant is not someone that I can easily work with. I just met with the bishop last night and he didn’t say anything to me. Why didn’t he say anything to me? I told him how we were going to plan our activities when we got our committee and he didn’t say, “Well, actually I was expecting a calendar and budget on Sunday.”

So you know what, let me pull out a ridiculous number and tell them $500-$600, that should cover whatever we plan to do right? And then some. The Bishop did say that I should ask for more money because there’s a small opening where the Stake is going to give us more money.

She’s being asinine about this. I can’t think of how to respond in a way where I don’t say something I may or may not regret later. I just want to ask her when I’m supposed to be able to do that. I mean, I know that I don’t do much at work, but I can’t put on my thinking cap and whip out activities and the budget while at my desk and I work tomorrow and I’m supposed to go to this stupid pig pickin’ thing tomorrow night (which I’m not but she doesn’t know that) and I’m just wondering when she thought I was going to whip all this out? I just want to pull the surgery card even though my surgery yesterday wasn't big or anything and tell her that I have a crater in my lip and the right side of my mouth is swollen and I don't feel like putting up with her crap.

I cannot stand her at this particular point in time. And I curse her for ruining my “good” streak. I know 7-10 days isn't that long, but it was long for me.

Screw Chapters...

I'm really sorry to anyone who got an e-mail with just a chapter heading. That was my mistake though I don't consider it one. All I did was hit the Enter button. I don't think I should be punished for hitting the enter button especially since it's a habit. I also don't think that if you hit the enter button while typing the title that it should publish the post.

Now I just had to waste time writing a paragraph explaining myself about the strange e-mail. I was already planning on wasting a paragraph writing about my title heading, so now I have to waste two paragraphs, ugh! This is the second blog of it's type. The original Brutally Honest had chapter headings as did this one, and this one alone has had 172 (at least that's the number coming to mind) and I'm tired of trying to keep track of the chapter numbers. I thought about starting a number 3 (so the chapters would start over at 1) but I don't think I'm going to keep writing in this blog much longer anyway so that idea was out. So my solution to the problem is to screw chapters.

I don't really have anything exciting to write about. I'm just bored at work killing time until I leave for my doctor's appointment. The most interesting thing I've done today is watched as two rival parties attain guests. Here's the scoop, earlier this week Girl A sent out a party invite for this Friday 7-11:55 (this is all on Facebook). Last night a girl who had RSVPed as going to this movie party on Friday night sent out an invite for a bon voyage party for her friend, Friday night (same one) 8-12:05. How lame is that? Then adding insult to injury she invited the host of the other party. So it has been my preoccupation today to check the guest list from time to time to see which morons are saying 'yes' to both parties and to see if 'Host A' accepts 'Host B's invitation. A lot of the same guests for Host A's party have RSVPed as going to Host B's party as well. Pure Pandemonium. It's just ridiculous to me and I'm sitting here wondering if Host B forgot her brain on this one? I mean...who schedules a party to over lap another party? I could understand if you didn't know, but when you are a confirmed guest to said other party you damn well know that something else is already happening that night. Please people, think before you plan.

Yes, I'm that bored.

Chapter 172: And it all comes tumbling down

Uh, so "boy life" sucks right now. Other than that life is great, but "boy life" sucks. Good thing it's not the only thing I depend on. However, it's what I am going to write about.

Let's begin with SM2. I don't know how I feel about him anymore. It’s just weird, we never really talk so how am I supposed to get a real opinion about him anyway? Any inkling of liking him is probably all in my head anyway. How can I like someone I never talk to?? And it’s as though the one time we had good conversation we used up everything to talk about. Lately when I see him, we talk super quick and then he just walks off. I can’t figure it out. The other night we had a ward activity. When he was at the cookie table I talked to him for less than 30 seconds, then he walked away, no “see ya,” or “I’m going over here,” just a silent exit. Then Sunday at church I ran into him in the hallway and he says, “Honey,” (insert real name here) like the Fonz or something, and I walk over to him and try to pick up conversation and again we talk briefly and there he goes again. I know he’s capable of conversation I’ve had one with him before and I’ve seen him have plenty of lengthy conversations with Spunky. I just can’t figure it out. So pardon me if I feel the need to abandon this ship.

Speaking of abandoning ships, A&W is a waste of time. Last time I wrote him was September 3rd and here we sit at September 10th. Just seems an awfully long time to not write someone back. Granted, I don't think I asked any questions in the last one, but whatever. I can't single handily carry this conversation forward. It's just too much effort for me.

Not to mention the fact that last night I had a dream where he turned out to be a serial killer. We were trying to find the evidence in his apartment while he was away and then he came back and I remember being mad at this guy (don't know who he was) for not being a look-out so we would know when he was coming. I was super scared. The funny thing is, this isn't the first dream where I am being chased by a serial killer, though the last dream wasn't A&W and I can't remember who it was, but it was creepy...and now I kind of wonder...hmm.

I haven't even talked to Charmer since I last wrote about him...so that's probably done with as well. Not that I talked to him a whole lot before.

...The End.











In the meantime I have decided that I should set up some rules for if I ever enter the online dating realm. Not a big possibility of it happening right now, though I am looking for some material, cause I don't know if you noticed, but I at least don't feel like I haven't written in a while (6 or so days...pandemonium). I'm not interested in actually going out with these people but maybe in the course of writing this blog the reasons why will slip out.



It all started with that random guy e-mailing me. You remember? He saw me on most eligible singles and I had no idea what he was talking about? So in my quest to figure out where he would have found me I found that I was signed up for Speed Dating on Facebook. I don't know when I signed up for that, but I remember someone I know sending me an invite and I accepted to check it out (I thought it was speed dating among your friends not amongst all of Facebook). On Facebook you can't just check something out, you have to "add the application" first. I guess I forgot about it, well, I think I just didn't care. I can recall getting e-mails from time to time about a "private note" but never looking to see what it was. So yesterday I got one of those e-mails and clicked on the link. It was a "you should meet this person" kind of note. Then it said that I had 60-some messages on this application. I started by deleting the "you should meet" notes and then looked on to the rest. DHL man actually had e-mailed me there so I figure that's how he found me...except that this program doesn't say your name on there so we may have had some serious stalking going on. Creepy!



Again, I'm not online dating, don't worry, but what you are about to hear/read is material that I thought would be good for me to write and store somewhere in case one day I do find myself desperate enough to join the online dating realm for reals. Also, if you ever consider going online to find yourself a date (hey it works for some people) then maybe these simple online dating guidelines can be helpful to you as well. Really, I think the boys should read so that they might have a fighting chance in getting a response back...but in the end, remember this is really just my own list.


Online Dating Rules: For Honey


*If you are leaning against or sitting on your nice car in your profile picture don't contact me.

*If you are wearing a wife beater in your profile picture don't contact me.

*Let me throw in that if you are wearing a gold necklace....don't contact me.

*If you haven't showered in three days (and it's on purpose) don't contact me.

*If you're going to come up with something witty, make sure it actually makes sense before you say it. Witty is good...misplaced witty is probably the worst thing you could do. It may work for other girls - but not me.

*Don't refer to yourself as Prince Charming or Mr. Right in your screen name or description of yourself. It's really rather unattractive and unoriginal.

*Don't describe yourself as a hopeless romantic or a sensitive and caring guy who just wants a girlfriend to lavish gifts on...again this may work on some girls, but not me. I'm not looking for sensitive, I'm looking for someone who can hold their own, give the attitude back, and I'm certainly not looking for someone to make me feel incredibly uncomfortable by fawning over me.

*If you're old enough to be my dad - don't contact me, let's narrow this to a 7 year gap, because I will not be dating someone older than my oldest sister.

*Don't write me and say, "I hope this doesn't sound dirty but I would totally partake of your cake." All you have achieved is helping me avoid baked goods while on a diet and made yourself sound like a perverted Dr. Seuss. Neither are attractive characteristics to me and you've just ruined two childhood favorites. Thanks a lot jerk. I won't even go into the fact that by prefacing it with "I hope this doesn't sound dirty" gave it no other way to sound.

*Don't talk about your feelings, how you follow them, and how other people should follow theirs. It's stupid and any grounded person knows their head has to play just as much a part of their lives as their heart does. I'd like to think I'm grounded. However, if your picture is cute enough I may follow my feelings for a bit and respond back. (never said I wasn't shallow).

*If you think the only thing I care about is what your six pack looks like and therefore all your pictures are from the neck to the waist- don't contact me.

*I am 97% more likely to respond back if your profile picture is goofy.

That's all I have for you...and that's just from going through and deleting many of these notes that I received in who knows how long. Just so you know, most of the "notes" are what they call "winks" and they says this, "Wink ;)". To me the wink should not be used by the guy, the actual winking smiley face made from punctuation marks sissyfies them. Especially the ones wearing the wife beaters and gold necklaces.

Chapter 171: Warning this is not a joke.

It’s another purge session. I think I will try to make this the last one.

We’re going to go with the three strikes rule of baseball on this one. So I have three strikes to report, I’ll try to stick to the topic and not digress too much.

Strike One - Sunday Night

Bull came over to play games but before she got there Moxie had come down to talk to me. This brought Pack Rat and SFHB into the mix…don’t know how, but suddenly they were there. So by the time that Bull arrived everyone was in my room talking. We didn’t even end up playing games because we kept talking. At some point SFHB and Pack Rat leave. Moxie went and got her computer and then came back down to my room and Bull, Moxie and I were hanging out. We closed the door so that we could make up our super cool, secret club, The Trifecta, inspired by Coz. So there we are, hanging out, with the door closed and in comes SFHB. No knock, she just walked right in. I think I have mentioned before that my room is not a commons area, you can not walk through to throw away the trash or to grab the recycling bin, and now I feel I must include that you can’t just open a closed door and walk in. It doesn’t work that way.

So she comes in and says, “Are you guys talking about me?” like she doesn’t actually think we would be…but we would be. Someone says “no” don’t know who did though, could have been me. She sits next to Moxie and looks on Moxie’s computer! She says, “I’m just going to be nosey.” I think next time I should say, “And I’m just going to be rude, get out.” Were any of the rest of us looking at her computer? No! My bedroom is it’s own country….January, and January has certain embassies…the September Embassy for Moxie and then the Visitor embassy for those guests in my room who are not roommates. There is no SFHB embassy, so I won’t let her terrorize the guest of the other embassies in January.

I couldn’t help though, but remember when SFHB used to do that stuff to me. She still does, but not as much. I told Moxie she can’t stand for it now, it will only get worse. I had been chatting with Moxie over the internet too and I had to stop because SFHB was looking at her screen! It ticked me off to no end!

After Moxie left to go to bed Bull and I were still working on some fun things in my room and Bull was telling me some stories and suddenly there’s SFHB. She enters with her Sunday school teacher voice and starts telling us stories about her family, like I give a damn. It’s just plain rude, does she honestly think the world revolves around her? I didn’t want to hear her stories so I stared at my iTunes, because I wouldn’t have the word document up on my computer detailing The Trifecta…I didn’t want her to see it, it’s none of her damn business.

Strike Two – Monday Night

Monday was Labor Day and Pack Rat and SFHB went out of town. Moxie and I went to FHE Monday night and when I came home from FHE Pack Rat and SFHB were just getting home. I pulled up into the driveway and SFHB starts to walk towards me. I say, aloud, “No you can not slut face,” or something similar to that referring to her coming through my room. That’s another thing that annoys me and I have a feeling you already knew that. Well it turns out that my back windows were still rolled down, but she didn’t act like she heard me so I didn’t say anything about it. When I parked I parked next to her car, even though I refused to conform, I did. It’s what the slut wanted and now I’m doing it, mostly to prove the point that it’s the stupidest idea ever, there’s barely any room between the cars and her door hit mine last night so I threw a little mini fit so she would get the idea. Anyway, so she walks up and blocks my way. She stands at between my back car door and her back car door like a slipping idiot. I’m trying to get to my back seat to pull stuff out of the car and she’s just standing there. I don’t think it’s funny but apparently she does, though she wasn’t laughing, and she says, “I guess I’ll have to take the garbage can to the curb in the morning. I can’t squeeze it between our cars. And all I said was, “Yeah, guess so.” Make up your mind, you want to prove that two cars can fit or you don’t want two cars to park there! I don’t want two cars to park there, but I feel like I should be able to park by the door that leads directly into my room. That’s just me and we all know that I’m a brat.

Besides, taking the garbage out to the curb is my job! I don’t know why she’s started to take it over. It’s like she wants to be the one in charge of everything, she wants to be the one who makes sure garbage and recycling get out because apparently the rest of us can’t be trusted to do it. I don’t know why it’s making me so angry because frankly I shouldn’t care about it at all! Grr!!

Strike Three – Tuesday Night

Moxie came down to my room to talk…to me…last night. Did she go to SFHB who was in the bathroom and talk to her? No! But I can hear the quiet hum of SFHB’s toothbrush and I know that she will either be following Moxie into my room or interjecting at some point. (P.S. I hate when she throws out her hand and says, “Wait!” and then interrupts. I want to look at her one of these times and say, “You were never even invited into this conversation!”) What do you know? She interjected something into our conversation, probably the same way I just described but I can’t remember. I wanted to ask her why the hell she thinks its okay to join in people’s conversations!

I got a movie in the mail yesterday and she asked me what movie I got, so all I said was, “Of your mom.” She kept looking at my movies too; no doubt trying to figure out which one was new, but I wouldn’t answer the question. It was “I Am Legend”. But I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing.

Wait I’m confused now because last night Moxie and I were sitting on the couch talking and the door was closed, so either she’s did this stuff twice to me yesterday or her humming toothbrush, walking in story was from Monday. Now that I’ve cleared that up, the walking into my room which had a closed door and trying to pump even simple useless knowledge from me was yesterday. Next time she opens my door without knocking I’m going to ask her if I can help her with anything because obviously she thinks she’s walking into some office. Or maybe I’ll start just walking into her bedroom door, though I don’t want to go anywhere near her room. When she says, “No, why?” I’ll say, “Oh, I’m sorry, I assumed it was something important since you rudely came into my room without knocking first.”

I wonder if it’s because I have a glass door that she can see right through. Maybe if I had a wood door she wouldn’t do that. Maybe I can put up a sign on my door that says, “Please knock, I’m tired of being disrespected.” And then underneath that in not much smaller print, “Knocking does not guarantee admittance.” The best thing is, my door is glass so I can look to see who is knocking and if it is her I can walk away without opening it. She would laugh and open the door and I would say, “That wasn’t a joke, get out.”

Chapter 170: Moxie101 - How to Grow a Backbone

Dangit why do I blog so much? I already have a SFHB blog I am trying to put together (my notes are at home so I'll have to blog during lunch or after work).
I just wanted to update on my pathetic life for a second.
Monday night we had FHE, I wasn't going to go but SM2 was actually going to be there and he never goes so I went. I only found out because Moxie is trying to teach me to have moxie and she made me IM him on Facebook Sunday night. He said that he was going to FHE and I said, "You at FHE?" which started a little conversation where we sarcastically spoke of life. He said he should be spiritual sometimes and I said that's probably good and he said, "yeah but I shouldn't make a habit of it." which I thought was funny. Then conversation lulled for a bit...go figure.
So Monday night he was there, but as soon as the lesson was over this girl pulled a bunch of people into the other room to play Apples to Apples, he was one of them. So I started to talk with a girl from church and then got pulled into playing Rock Band a couple of times. I saw SM2 in the kitchen talking to his roommates girlfriend but I didn't go over until later. Finally I got up the "moxie" and went over and joined their conversation. Almost immediately a girl I love and hate (cause she's so flirty) Spunk, comes over and starts talking to him in Italian...show off. Then Kermie comes over to round up his car to leave and SM2 rode with him. So he says goodbye to his roommates girlfriend and then he said goodbye to me and his arms had kind of come up but then they went back down when he said goodbye and then he said, "Give me a hug," and I, sounding like a stupid girl says, "Okay," and I gave him a hug. But then I ended up leaving at the same time as them anyway. So a group of us are talking in the front yard and and Kermie remembers he has to tell B2 something so he runs back in and we keep talking. Then when Kermie gets back we all head towards our cars. I tell spunk this is a shady neighborhood so I'm glad I had someone to protect me as I walked to my car and SM2 says, "Yeah she wanted a strong man to walk her to her car." I paused and said, "Oh I was talking about Spunk, but you'll do." Then Spunk and SM2 began to speak Italian again and I told them to speak English. When SM2 laughed I said, "Oh did I say that aloud?" Then we said goodbye and I went home.

Oh! While at FHE soul patch held my hand! Okay, here's the story. So I was standing in the kitchen, near the doorway but not in the doorway. I was talking to this girl as we looked at all the wedding announcements on the refrigerator. As I was standing there someone touched my butt! It was an accident but felt intentional, and after seeing who it was it creeped me out even more. It wasn't like I was in anyone's way. Then a couple of minutes later someone is walking by to the left of me and their hand hits my hand just right it also felt intentional. There was a split second where I was holding someone's hand, so I look to see who I just shared an awkward moment with and it was Soul Patch. I look at him and he slightly looks back in that awkward kind of way like, "Do I apologize or do we just let that slide?" You can bet that if we ever have a conversation again I'm bringing it up! "Hey Soul Patch, remember that time we held hands?"

In other boy news, I had talked to Moxie (the only one who bothered giving me advice on A&W mentioned several posts ago...thanks guys for all your support...sarcasm) about A&W and she said that it sounded like he wanted to keep having conversations with me but didn't know how...or something that made it more bearable. Because honestly these e-mails are awkward (how many times can I use the word "awkward" in one blog?) But I wrote back and began my e-mail like so:
...I hope you're kidding about eating the squirrel. But if you're not, did it taste like chicken?
Then I went on and told him about the cookie bake off, responded to the UT still being there remark and then asked him how church was post-mission and what he does with his life now that's he's not on a mission, I mean, despite mourn the fact that he's no longer in Virginia.
I asked questions, I tried to make this easier.
I sent that early morning of the 1st (and remember I said I wasn't a patient person and I forget how recently I did something so I think the person is taking longer? Thank goodness the message tells me the first because I had thought it had been longer since I wrote him). While thinking it had been a while I began to doubt Moxie (sorry!) and assumed that trying to put more effort into my e-mails was a mistake. I figured that would be the end of it, I would never hear back from him (I've had that happen before so it's not like I'm pulling this stuff out of thin air)...thin air? Isn't it always thin? I mean...whatever, get back on track.
Then last night he wrote back (after I had gone to bed so I got it this morning). Started off a little normal, then went back to, "how do I respond to this?"
He told me he really did eat squirrel on his mission, so I figure I'll let him know we buried one on Monday. He went on to tell me that he is now an uncle, and that he had just gotten back from the hospital. He said about the nephew, "so good stuff going on in my life, yours??" I don't understand the two question mark approach. Was it a typo? Is he excited? really interested in knowing what is going on? Then he asked me how the family was and "Everyone else if that makes sense." Which actually up until this moment I thought it said, "Everyone else that makes sense." I didn't see the if before. Well, no, it doesn't make sense...with either way I read it...what's being asked here? The first time I read it I didn't know 'who else makes sense', because that didn't make sense. Now I realize he's asking how the family is and everyone else if that makes sense. I thought it did...now I'm not sure, who is everyone else?
At least the message ended with "take care" rather than toodles...I didn't like toddles, it's not a manly expression, it's like a 30 year old guy signing off with TTFN...That's a tigger expression for those of you who don't know, 'Ta-ta for now'. It's okay for children to like that stuff, and maybe for high school girls to say it, but once you leave being a teenager you've got to let it go. I'm not even judging A&W on this one because he doesn't sign off with TTFN...I don't know why I went off on it, I don't know anyone who uses that expression anymore anyway. I guess the very mention of tigger sets me off because Ms. X loved everything tigger in high school and apparently I'm not over the emotional trauma I endured while being friends with her. I should have never mentioned tigger I have only myself to blame for that one.

I'll be writing about SFHB tonight when I get home from work. But I just wanted to vent about The Mold a little bit more. Yesterday she was kicked out of the bedrooms and forced to sleep on the couch. This morning my parent's found her sleeping in Burrito's room. She told them that Burrito had a nightmare and came and got her. First off...my take on this - if Burrito had a nightmare he's not going to make the trip down the stairs into the dark ground level, he's going to stop of at my parent's door and give it a try. We're talking about the kid who is afraid to change his clothes if he is the only one upstairs.

This is an e-mail from my sister.

"Okay. So mom and I just had our lunch break. She told me again how mad she was that The Mold was in there. Then, she told me that The Mold thought that by mom telling her to get her stuff out of the kids room and put it, I am guessing moms office, that that meant she could stay for the holidays. Mom told her no that is not what that meant. Mom gets mad that dad locks up the house and then The Mold gets calls at 11 or 1 in the am and dad feels he can’t sleep cause he is worried you won’t lock the house back up. Mom asked her why she didn’t go to the vet that was hiring. She said cause she thought she could get something better. Mom said you need to build your resume! I don’t know if I told you, but Spam saw beer in The Mold's car the other night. Mom asked The Mold about it and she said it was her co-workers from the hair seminar thing. Mom said it is pretty dumb of you, who worked so hard to get your license and you have a breathalyzer in your car. The Mold said “It isn’t mine” cop isn’t gonna care!!!"

She's a moron. I don't even have time to get upset over this.

Chapter 169: Anger Management

So I’m going to vent about something I haven’t vocalized in here for a long time. That is my mom’s younger sister, Thorn, who from this point forward will be referred to as ‘The Mold’. As some of you might know or remember, The Mold moved herself into my parent’s house one weekend when she broke her foot. She took a key from the key rack and hasn’t left since. One time she didn’t come home on a Thursday night, was gone all day Friday and all day Saturday so my dad changed the locks. She was gone most of the day Sunday and then returned to my parent’s house and when her key didn’t work she didn’t get the hint, instead she knocked. I would have pretended not to hear her, but my mom and sister, Beans, don’t possess the empty shell of a heart that I do.

The Mold had been told (okay Dr. Seuss) that she could not stay in the house past the end of May. But when the end of May rolled around she was still there and my parent’s, bless their hearts, hadn’t grown the back bone to force her out. Rather they stayed prisoners in their own home, with an ever growing mold infestation. My sisters and I tried to help our parent’s. We gave them pep talks to help them find the strength necessary to tell The Mold to get out of their home. It became more important to us to get her out when my aunt became sick, and then a short time later died. My dad had enough stress in his life, and then his brother-in-law became sick. The last thing my parent’s needed was an immature 50 year old who has a workout while she’s eating and feels the need to wash a load of laundry every freaking day. It makes me think of this woman at work (the second job) who moves and moves and moves but yet…I can’t tell if she’s done any work. In fact, I doubt she has. So it’s as if The Mold scrounges up dirty clothes, or who knows, takes clean ones, and drags them down to the washing machine every day to emit the appearance of doing something productive.

I need to focus on today, not let the past several months out. So The Mold’s new date of departure is set for September 30…the day can not arrive soon enough. Sisters are excited, but I am skeptical. All I know is what experience has given me and it’s shown me that The Mold gets to stay past her expiration date…festering. So I will believe it when I see it.

In an attempt to move the process of elimination along we decided to redecorate the kids rooms. You may ask why this would help the process. Oh, is that because I forgot to mention that the walking cesspool finds in no inconvenience to her 10 year old daughter to share a bed with her. This woman is a freaking moron. She’s 50 years old and thinks it’s okay to force her ten year old daughter to share a bed with her. So many foul words running through my head right now. The process started two weeks ago, when we painted one of the rooms, and it was to end today when we had the bedding. We switched Spam and Burrito, so we moved furniture and threw out three garbage bags of crap that they won’t even notice is gone. My mom’s job for the day (aside from the obvious one of decorating) was to tell The Mold that she is now to sleep on the couch, and no longer able to torture her biologicals.

I got to the house around 10 to find that my mom and my dad were not there, but The Mold was. So I pull over to the side of the road and call my mom and ask her where she is. She’s at the store and will be home in a couple of minutes. So I keep driving around the block. Setting up mile markers for me should I ever decide to go for a run in my parent’s neighborhood. I have four miles mapped out and saw one heck of spider’s web, could trap a soccer ball no joke. Then I go back to my parent’s house, and The Mold is sitting on the back step. She jumps up quickly when I get there, she’s talking on her cell phone to who knows and apparently doesn’t want me to hear about it. I go through the front door, ignoring the fact that she even exist, and wait for my mom.

Mom gets there and we go upstairs and start cleaning. Mom tells The Mold that she’s got to get her stuff out of Spam’s room because we are going to be moving furniture around between the two rooms. Mold says, “I’m just going to put it on the bed.”
Mom says, “No because we are going to change the sheets.”
“These sheets?” the one celled membrane asks.
“Yeah, those sheets.”
“I just changed them.” She says…not mentioning the fact that she is in fact a walking infestation and she has some form of infection on her back (we’re just lucky Spam hasn’t taken ill).
I just rolled my eyes and again, pretended she didn’t exist.

This pretending thing I was doing wasn’t going to be able to last for long because apparently The Mold is also a freaking hoverer. She comes in to check out what we are doing and so help me I just wanted to punch her in the face and would have if I wasn’t such a germ-a-phobe and scared of getting hepatitis or something. If her standing there wasn’t enough, she would open her mouth and tell how us to do something. To refrain from cursing in front of my mom, I stayed completely silent and with my back turned to her, because if I dared open my mouth I knew something horrible would slip out. I grit my teeth, I fisted my hands until the knuckles were white, I shoved furniture and dropped books harshly on the floor, all in an attempt to be well behaved for my mom.

We were moving the books from Spam’s bookshelf in her old room to the bookshelf in her new room and I found something, I can’t remember what but it was something about weight and I said to my mom, “We don’t want her getting a complex.” She’s ten years old for crying out loud. And the bitch, and I apologize for using that word, but honestly I think you’ll agree after I write what she said, says, “Well, she could probably use a complex.” Spam is a little chunky that’s true, but a complex? Seriously? So I say, with a very stressed voice because I’m trying hard not to even look at her, “I think we could all use a complex,” and my face was leaning in her direction, but again, I can not look at her, I find that I am incapable of doing so. I was referring to her weight at that moment, and when she picked up on it she said something about her weight and I didn’t disagree. I have never ever said something to someone about their weight (this would be a first). You could 300 pounds and I’m not going to bring it up to you because heaven knows you of all people know you’re 300 pounds! Spam knows she’s chubby! She doesn’t need a 50 year old waste of existence…who herself is larger than three of us combined, giving her a complex about her weight. I have never wanted to hurt someone so badly as I did The Mold in that moment…that is until the day progress.

At one point she was trying to put one of those things that babies sit in, they can spin around and play with the toys and mirrors, in the attic. The thing is round, the entrance to the attic (through the ceiling with a ladder) is a rectangle. Math wasn’t my greatest subject in school, but any idiot knows enough geometry (the one with shapes) to know that a circle may have some difficulty fitting into a rectangle. Especially since that circle doesn’t seem to have a thin side, so you can’t turn it and get it to fit in. She’s standing on the ladder, struggling to put it in and not getting anywhere. I call out to her that she may have to take the legs off to get it in there. She says, “If I could just get one of the legs up I think I’ll be okay.” My dad, standing not too far away from me shares much of the same opinions about The Mold with me. We understand each other, because we are both have some degree of intelligence, and can’t help but laugh at those who don’t. Not really laugh out of humor, but out of a, “Really? You thought that could work?” kind of thing. He’s doing the same thing I am, keeping his back turned to the mold and he’s shaking he head. Since The Mold will not listen to me, I continue to talk to myself, and I tell her, in my imaginary world where she listens, that a circle can not fit through a rectangle. Then I tell her that she is making what could be a five minute job into a half hour one. I am saying this aloud, and my dad hears me and laughs. The Mold however continues to think that she can defy the laws of physics, and go back to ignoring her.

She bothers me in so many different ways, but the main ones would be how she asks like a pack mule, or a work horse. Someone says something and she jumps right on it and does it, incorrectly most of the time, as though that’s going to get her more time in the house (I didn’t mention she tried to negotiate staying through the holidays…Hell no sucker fish, ain’t gonna happen). It’s like having a dog that has to be by your side, no matter if it is getting in the way of your walking, or it’s pushing you aside to squeeze into a small space. The dog doesn’t think about how annoying rather than helpful it is being. The Mold has the mentality of that kind of dog…and yet, I think the dog has more value in the end. Also, when you say something, like, “Hey dad, remember that time?” and you go on to talk about something that only the two of you were there for…she says, “Yeah, hm-hmm.” And I wanted to turn to her and say, “No I think that was one of those weekends you wanted to get high and you sent the kids to our house. To be honest I don’t think you remember much of any of the past 10 years.” Cause she did that a lot, for things I knew she wasn’t there for. She’s would be a great empathizer if she wasn’t so full of it.

Another thing that bothers me is how she thinks she right. The time came to put the bedding on the bed. So the first thing would be the bed skirt. My mom and I, I repeat, my mom and I were getting ready to do that, and here wobbles in The Mold. “It’s easier if you do it this way,” she says. I stare at the wood frame of the bed, clenching the bed skirt. She ventures in closer to the room, I supposed not getting a response out of either of us wasn’t a veritable ‘stay out of this’ sign. My Mom and I….again, my mom and I begin to put the bed skirt on. “Mom (she used her real name here), it’s easier if you do it this way.” And preceded to go to the other side of the bed “to help”. I couldn’t look at anyone. You know how sometimes in books people describe the color of the room changing when they are completely angry? Sometimes it’s red…most times it’s red. I feel like the room changed right before my eyes. It was probably a side effect of the blood vessels in my eyes bulging with anger. She tries to help mom, I stand back, mom tells her to do something one way and the two of them get the bed skirt. I leave the room. I went downstairs, so angry tears were welling in my eyes. I tried to calm myself down because I’m pretty sure I have anger management problems. I punch of pillow and try to control my breathing so my dad, in the next room, doesn’t get tipped off that I’ve had it. Then I start to straighten my parent’s movie collection as I tried to suppress the rage surging through my veins.

I let them finish the room, my mom had a new helper and if she wouldn’t tell her to butt out, I’d butt out and not help anymore. So I went and played a computer game for a while and contemplated leaving before dinner. It just wasn’t worth it to me. Then mom came downstairs and we went to the store to pick up some last minutes things. I was calm. We got back to the house and The Mold had settled into the contours of the cushions to watch TV. I went upstairs to help clean up the second room, and the mood I was in made it possible for me to easily throw away a bunch of junk.

My sister (who had my cousins with her all day) arrived home so I got in a spot to hide and take pictures of Spam as she first laid eyes on the room. So that was a success and then we cooked up dinner, which I was ready for because all I had eaten that day were four packs of smarties my mom bought, oh and a glass a root beer. What can I say? Anger makes me lose my appetite. So I debrief my sister and brother-in-law on the many fiascos of the day while we are outside cooking on the grill.
Then we get inside and the table is set and I wanted a hamburger which was on a plate at the kids table so I grab my plate and go get one. I come back and The Mold is setting her own plate in my spot. I say, “that’s my spot.” Loudly, and everyone heard except the burn out. I was going to move to the other side but my sister-in-law said, “Sit by me.” Which is what I would have been doing before my seat was stolen. So I stand there, by my spot and wait until The Mold returns and I say more clearly and with my hand on my hip, “Uh, that’s my spot. I was sitting there, that’s my seat.” I said it several different ways in case she couldn’t understand the first few. She laughs and says, “Oh, that explains why there was no plate there.” You think? I mean honestly, a completely set table and somehow the person who set it forgot a plate? Not likely moron! She always does that! She thinks that somehow we’re idiots and forgot a plate so she always goes to get a new one, and no one wants her putting the clean plate back because who knows what nastiness is embedded into her skin and now rubbed off on the plate?! *breath*. So she moves to the other side of the table. I set my plate back where it belonged and then I realize my side of the table only has two chairs. So I give mine to my sister-in-law and she’s saying, “Oh no, you don’t have to.” And I say, “There’s one here in the kitchen, so it’s no big deal, I clear it off and use it.” I clear of the chair and there’s The Mold in dog mode, and she grabs the chair to take it into the dining room. I’m thinking she’s “doing her part” I walk into the dining room and she has taken my chair for her own! She didn’t put the chair in my spot, she put the chair in her spot. She took it! The freaking thief! My sister-in-law gives me this wide eyed look like, “She just took your chair.” Damn right she did. So I say, “My chair!” of course again, she didn’t hear it. My sister is laughing hysterically probably because that just set her over the edge and she realizes that someone in the house is about to die (and for a second she even thought it was her when I came at her she flinched and jumped behind my dad). So my mom mentions we have a folding chair upstairs. The Mold goes to retrieve it and I go outside to calm down (really need that anger management class). I sit outside and tell myself not to overreact. Then when I feel up to it I go back inside. The folding chair is in my flipping spot! The wench didn’t even trade the chairs. So I come in and sit in the chair and I’m sure I looked pissed off because at this point I had completely had it and my sister starts laughing again and runs out of the room (this is when she flinched and jumped behind dad because I took this opportunity to leave the room as well). Then I come back in and sit down. I forget what happened, but someone took something else from me and my sister said, “Tough day, first your spot, then you chair, now this.” I wouldn’t even look at The Mold who was sitting right across from me. I actually ignored her so well throughout the rest of dinner that I can’t recall her being there for long.

She just aggravates me, I thought I should state that since I don’t think you can pick up on it. If she is not out of the house at the end of September I am boycotting my parent’s house, and my sister said she will too. I mean, my mom knows I’m a brat, I told her today that she made me this way, so she only has herself to blame and she agreed.go