Douchebook.

I love Facebook. Hey I get that shit on my phone, and any spare second I have, I eagerly scroll through the updates.
I love that instant connection with friends and loved ones.

I do have my pet peeves status updates though. I shall share with you all....

FB Pet Peeve #1 The always unhappy, sick or generally grumpy ones.

EXAMPLE:

"Can anyone tell me why I woke up today?"

8 hours ago 

"Ugh....This day sucks."

6 hours ago

"Seriously? Work was horrible."

4 hours ago

"Ugh..Morning already? I just know it's going down hill from here."

just now

I can't stand these ones. they just MIGHT be THE douchey-est updates on the planet. I really want to reply "Good God get a rope already " But I don't... because Lord knows their next update will be:

"Ugh...the rope broke"

FB Pet Peeve #2 Rub my nose in it.

These ones are the bitches and assholes who constantly rub my nose in the fact that I am broke and they are not.

Yay! Im so happy that the recession does not apply to you, and I dont want to hear how your husband has to work one free day a month when he brings home 5 grand.

Fuck you.

I'm working all day, schooling at night and generally busting my ass. Plus I just used dishsoap in my laundry machine because I'm too exhausted to go to the store, and even IF I did drag my hump to the store, I doubt I could afford Gain, and I'd have to buy the Mexican shit with the seal on it.... you know.... 80 lbs for $3.00

No I do not get pissed off when EVERYONE buy's a new JetSkii...Just the ones who sit on their ass all day OR shop daily at Pier 1.

Fuck you one more time, because Im jelous that you can do that at all.


FB Pet Peeve #3 Attention whores

Not all attention whores mind you. Just the ones who post updates that MAKE you ask them what's wrong.

EXAMPLE:

"I'm so sad, when will this end?"

8 hours ago 

"Seriously?? Did that JUST happen?"

5 hours ago

"Wondering what to do now....My life feels empty without you."

23 minutes ago

Really?!!! Fuck You.

You KNOW you post that update and just WAIT for someone to ask what is wrong with you.

If you picked up the phone/sat on the computer, pulled up your facebook, sat there and thought "I am going to tell the world my business..but first they must ask...." Just fucking say it. We are busy people. And half of your friends are asking because they feel they have too.

These are the kind of people that can be in Disneyland and complain about the lines. YOU frustrate me. Dig yourself out of the perpetual funk you're in and masturbate a little.

It has been proven that a little slap and tickle (even if its by your own hand) is good for your general happiness.

FB Pet peeve #4  I am an adult but I speak like an uneducated douche bag.
EXAMPLE:

"U n0 I can C U frm here."

"Dis is the place to be"

"T0day is 4 winn3rs."

Really? You spent that much time HUNTING around your keypad JUST to use a zero in the place of an O. Or Dis...DIS??? What are we all black 13 year olds now? YOU are a douchebag, and the worst part is you spell like a dumbass too. You are 30. Grow up and write like it.

These are a few of my pet peeves. However please don't get me wrong. I do not hunt for these, and quite often I delete people on my list who just can't stop. I try to ignore, but usually can't. And quite often Dawn or my sister will call each other and alk about what assholes these people are.

I however love so many updates. Like ones from Anna, who shares her crazy life and her coupon deals.

Dawn, who is just simply funny and plus my BFF and is carrying my love child.

Bobby, because I love to hear anything from him.

My cousin Brian, because he is a hunk who handles his three boys like woah. And he is funny and makes me laugh.

Michelle. Cuz she is perfect, and so is her family.

Cyn because she is crazy.

Liz and Sharon. You could post about the shape and consistency of poop and I would love it simply because it came from your fingertips.

mostly all of my friends, because I have deleted most of the douche bags. Some I have kept simply to rant about.

Poopy Pants!

I had a bad 15 minutes at work today when a child almost as big as I am pooped his 4 year old pants.

"Miss Beanie!!! I smell something funny!" I hear called out to me from a classroom.

"Oh no!.." And I stand up.

I walk into the pre-K class and peek around a corner, sniffing and snuffing like a poop sniffing dog.
There is a child.
A tall child.
A huge child.
A child that stopped pooping his pants a long time ago, or so I thought.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask him


"No..Beanie I am not kidding you. Hey Beanie guess what! I got a cool shirt!"


"Let's go." I lead the way into the toddler room and the whole way he is spouting on about his cool shirt that Daniel gave him.

The teacher calls out "I can do it Beanie." But seriously teachers have the hardest jobs in the whole entire world, okay?
                    Teachers should be on that show 'Deadliest Jobs'

                                     Teachers, should be paid more then we are.

"No way, you are entirely too busy!" I say back to the AMAZING teacher who I would change a poop for any day of the week,


"Hey...Hey Beanie. I gotta COOL SHIRT!" The little boy announces (yet again)

"Hey...really? I think you have some chonies full of poo...that's what I think you've got Yo."


"Yeah." he says while I strap on my gloves.

"But Hey...HEY BEANIE! Look at my shirt. it's cool. It has a hole in it."

I sit down on a toddler chair, which, if you have never sat down on one as a grown up, it is exactly like 4 inches from the ground. And if you have never seen a fattie sit in a chair 4 inches off the ground, it is quite a sight. Even poop pants chuckled at me.

I ask him to take off his shoes, then socks, then pants. And that's where 4 years of poo changing abilities comes into play. I mean, could I write that on a resume? 

"Able to slip off underwear FULL of poo without getting a smear on a child."
That should get me like..i dunno...50 cents more an hour ALONE.

"Hey..Hey..Hey Beanie...Guess what Beanie! Look at my shirt it's got a hole in it. Its so cool."

"Listen. I know you are trying to make me notice the shirt more then I notice your poo okay? I get it. Right now I don't think your shirt is too amazing. Let's see how I feel when i am done with the poo. Kay?"

"Kay..beanie...okay. Let's see."

"Deal?"


"Yes...hey Beanie! Yes. Deal."

So I withdrawl the child from his poopey smeary undies, without spreading the love, and clean him off. He obliges quietly. He bends when I tell him too and turns when I tell him too. I get him cleaned up and dressed in fresh undies, new pants, but his same holey shirt.

"Hey...Hey Beanie. look at my shirt. It is SO cool! It has a hole it in!"

I turn as I dry my hands off from washing and look at his shirt. It is white. It has paint smears on it from painting and green slime on it as well. He turns so that I can admire the hole in the back that is so UH-MAZING.

"Yes love, it is amazing."

He smiles and jumps 4 times in a row. His hair is red and his cheeks are flushed with pleasure.

"Remember what I am about to tell you, because it will get you through life... okay?" I ask


"Okay...Hey Beanie Yes...Ill remember..." He leans in. His smile is HUGE.


"Shirts always look cooler when you don't poop in the pants beneath them." I say and look wisely at him from my great height of 5'3


"Oh!!! Okay beanie! Okay...hey beanie! I have a cool shirt and no poop!" And I walk him back into his class.

Chi-ghetti....

When my sister came down the first time she warmed my heart.

She cleaned my house, which... I felt sorta bad about, but then again she has to pay for the .001 % raising of my electricity bill SOMEHOW...so I got over it.

The very BEST thing she does is make dinner for us.

The first week she was here I wanted to CRY when I smelled dinner cooking. She whipped out delicious entrees and I swore she wore a Halo... (Which if you know my sister is wicked odd.)

But to me she did.

One night she popped a lasagne in the oven and sided it with a delicious chunky salad, covered in Ranch.

The next night she introduced me to Chili covered tater tots, complete with cheese and sour creme. I. ALMOST.DIED of fatty happiness.

Tacos, chili beans and rice and perfectly seasoned spaghetti as well.

I was in bliss. Every DAY I went to work the next day and bragged about my chihuahua sister.

"Last night she made delicious spaghetti! I wanted to DIE."

(It doesnt take much to make me happy okay?)

My co-workers all "oooohed" and "ahhhhhed" and smiled at my happiness.

I was queen of the delicious dinner world!!!!

My sister went home, And I missed her very much. I missed her company the most. Laughing over coffee, both in the morning and in the evening.

She was gone a week and a half or so, and came back to stay a bit longer.....or so I thought.

We went grocery shopping, so I could be sure she had enough fabulous ingredients...

Monday she made spaghetti. I had bought ground turkey at her urging. (It was cheaper) The noodles and sauce were fab, but the turkey was strange.

Tuesday she made sheperds Pie. Ground taco-y beef, mixed vegi's and mashed potatoes, smothered in cheese.
Mmmmmmm right?

I loved this once, but since I hate beef...or any meat really, I waited until she went potty, picked out all of the chunks of meat and plopped them in Karmas bowl.

I sat at work tonight at stared at Dawn. "Im so scared."

"Of what?"

"Dinner."

She laughed "Why?"

"I dunno...I don't understand it. And I don't want to complain about my tiny chihuahua sister cooking for me. plus I appreciate her doing it at all."

"Okay." She smiled.
And I left the office.

So I left work with a strange nervousness in my belly. I opened the front door and smelled dinner cooking. I peeked around the corner at my chihuahua and smiled.

I felt like a husband scared to death of his harridan wife.

"Hi chihuahua!" I called out with glee, praying that she couldnt tell I was nervous.

"Hi! Guess what! We're trying something new Chili Spaghetti! I had left overs so I wanted to use it."

My body shook with fright. I peeked into the pan. "Oh...OH!" I tried to smile.

The tone crept into her voice. The tone that says "Don't fucking piss me off, I slaved over the stove for a hot meal for you and you are ganna sneer at it!"

My eyes went left, and then right looking for a frying pan swinging tword my head.
I wanted to duck.
I mean...I really really wanted to duck.

"It looks interesting" was the only thing I could say.

"TRY it." she told me. Her smile gone. Her chihuahua eyes boring into my soul.

"No."

"WHY NOT! You're not ganna eat!?"

"O...of course I'm ganna eat! Just...later!" I smiled at her and felt my skin shiver.
I left the room calmly, turned the corner and RAN into my bathroom.

I called Dawn.

"Hello?" she squeaked

"Im so scared I'm so scared, I'm FROZEN in fear!"

"What's wrong?"

I peeked out of my bathroom and quickly shut the door.

"My sister made dinnerrrrrrrrrrrr......" my hands were clenched.


"Uh oh...what was it?"

"chilispaghetti" I whispered into my Motorola Defy

She laughed. "Say what now?"


"CHILI.SPAGHETTI...I dunnowhattodooooooooooooooo"

"Chili spaghetti???? What the heck is that?"

Jesse piped up in the background "What's wrong with chilispaghetti! That sounds delich!"

I hated him right then.

"Shut up Jesse! ....Maybe your sister doesn't to be there anymore?"


"You think?" I whispered, as I peeked out the door once more.

"For sure. She wants you to kick her out. that's why she made chilispaghetti"

"Oh no..." I gasped. "Okay I gatta go..."


"Goodluck dude."

I opened the door and ran into shanes room. I squished up next to him and burrowed my head into his lap. "Hidemehidemefromaunty. Im so scared, I don't understand!"

He laughed. "Calm Down Ma. It's just chili spaghetti. Noodles instead of rice."

"But...But...I don't get it! Aunty hates me. I just KNOW it! We have food. I just went shopping! Tht can of chili was 5 bucks! I woulda bought some rice!!! I have money!"

"MA!" shane laughed "Calm the fuck down Ma.." He laughed and I burrowed in closer. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh she's coming...she is hunting me! OHMYGOD she's ganna find me whatdoi dooooooo!"

"Just stop being a pussy and TRY it. Sheesh."

Shane is a traitor.

I saw her tiny form move past, and then she came into the room with a plate.
I flinched and moaned.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Im sorry im scared! I don't understand it!"

My sister is very small, and shaky and she is terrifying.

TERRIFYING.

She poked her finger in my butt and made me jump out of shanes bed. "Get out here and try this, stop being a baby!"

"....Kay..." I muttered, and followed her out.

She gave me a plate and stood over me with her fist on her hip. Like a teeny weeny nazi.

I ate the whole thing. "Mmmmm" I said. And flinched when she stared at me with her mean look.


"Oh stopit! If you want something else there is sheperds pie in the fridge." 

"Ew. Nooooo!"

"EW!??? I thought you liked it"


"I just said that...im sorry!!! I don't like meat!"

I saw the hurt look on her face and I felt like a giant fat bag of douche.


"Ummmm.let's go smoke!!!" I said, trying to cheer her up.

It didn't work, but she pretended like It did.

We sat outside and I looked at her as we chatted. My sister thinks that one side of her face sags.
It does NOT. She thinks she is chubby, and she is a bone. She thinks her face has jowls and she does not.

She whispered to me tonight "I think I have body dismorphic disorder!"

I had to use everything inside of me not to pop off with "I think you have dinner dismorphic disorder"
But She would punch me in the kidney and I would probably die and not be able to hump my boyfriend in 83 days.....

In the end, I am thankful for everything she cooks.
But I won't lie, I may be nervous again tomorrow when I clock off.

More poo...and a chihuahua...

 I call my sister a chihuahua.
Because she is tiny and skinny and she shivers a lot....


My tiny chihuahua sister and I were enjoying our morning coffee and a smoke.
The sun was shining.
The birds were chirping.
And all was well in our tiny corner of the ghetto.

All of a sudden, the front door opened and a blonde head emerged. Bright blue eyes looking frightened and a rosebud mouth whispered "Grampa had an accident...." and the door shut again.

My sister and I looked at each other, and walked into the house.

We could see some doodle by his chair....
But grampa was no where to be found.

I went to the bathroom, and there he was.

"You okay kent?" I asked

"Yeah...dammit..."

"okay hold on. Ill be right back!" I cheerfully squacked.

I passed my sister in the hallway, she had cleaner in her hands.

I grabbed some bags from under the sink and I passed her again, she was on the way out.

I helped grampa take off his shoes, and pants and socks.

I disposed of them and met my sister in the kitchen, She was wearing 'ghetto gloves' (walmart bags over her hands) and she was staring over in the living room... "Did you clean up the poo?"

"No..." I whispered "I thought YOU did."

We both Turned to Karma, who lay in the living room licking her lips.

We both laughed, and my sister offered my very own old man an offer he couldn't refuse "You feel like a shower Kent?"

"Oh yeah!" he crowed


We undressed him and my sister manuvered him into the shower. He let out a groan of happiness as the warm water hit his body.

We shut the curtain and ushered in the bleach water and a mop. We squirted and sprayed and moped and disinfected.

I was so happy to have my sister here with me....soo sooo fucking happy.

When Grampa was done, we dressed him in a pair of "Spank me, I've been naughty" pajamma bottoms and a "Dont get Caulky!" t-shirt (It has a calking gun on the front.)

We declaired him a pimp and he rolled outside to enjoy some coffee.

All in all, my sister may be a teeny chihuahua, but she sure as hell knows how to shower an old man.

Replace yourself.

It's kinda hard to replace yourself.

This is something I am finding is true.

Lately I have been conducting interviews to fill my position as a school age teacher. I won't mention WHY, because that is like spitting in the face of Fate and Karma, so instead I will gloss over the why of it all.

On Monday I interviewed someone whose eyeballs kept freaking me out. They sort of wriggled around every time she moved her eyes.

In one sense I figured that might be pretty awesome as a scare factor....but then I realized I was glossing over her perfectly boring speech about how "awesome" she is.

Rule #1. Please don't tell me how awesome you are. If you truly ARE amazing, I will be able to tell. Don't speak about it BE about it YO!

I think to be a good teacher you should have great like-a-bility....which may be a made up word, I am unsure.

Like-a-bility comes when you are funny and sweet and confident about your abilities to teach a room full of children. Parents will love you, Staff will too and the children wont be able to help it either.

This is a skill that SEEMS easy, but alas, It is not.

You should be fun. If a child wants to paint with his nose, you should be open to that and even be able to suggest other body parts he should experiment painting with.

You should be a 'strong' teacher. One who is confident and take charge.

You should feel absolutely loyal to your coworkers and if it ever looks like they need a hand, you will offer yours before they can even ask.

So ..on my interviews I've been asking questions like "If you noticed a co-teacher is frusterated, what would you do?"

"If a child feels like today is a good day for painting with their toes...how would you handle it?"

"Tell me how you would talk to a parent who is very nervous about leaving their child with you."

Stuff like that.

I am not sad to be replaced...it is just an interesting quest.

We will see how it goes.

A bucketfull of boogers!

My Dinga is 7 weeks pregnant today.

I know this for several reasons.

1) She is my best freckily friend, and any BFF worth her salt knows the date of her knocked up friend.

2) I have a pregnancy calendar on my phone that tracks the development of "cletus" and the emotions that Dinga could, should or WILL be going through.

So far The smell of smoke makes her puke. Which in hindsight is good. No smoking for baby. It might make him retarded or his ears automatically bigger.

She has no desire for chocolate. Wierd if you know Dawn.

Soda, a drink that she used to guzzle all day long, makes her nauseous. For a single day, she enjoyed Arizona fruit punch, but today it made her sick.

She is at a loss over what she should drink.

Today, as I walked into work, Dawn was sitting at her desk talking to a very small, very cute old lady. Soon she walked her around the classes, but I could tell by the pinkish color beneath her freckils, that something was wrong.

As the lady left she started muttering under her breath about smelly old ladies.

"She smelled?" I asked

"YES! Like boogers!"

I looked at Mindy, and back to Dawn "Boogers DON'T smell."

"Yes they do..you know when a kid is sick, (gag) and they are snotty..and they...(gag)..smell like boogers?!"

My head shook in time with Mindy's.

5 minutes later the sound of her wretching could be heard.

She exploded out of the bathroom "She smelled like ....a BUCKET of boogers!"

I laughed because, well, I couldn't help it. Plus, since Dawn is the mate to my soul, I'm ecstatic to be here during this whole pregnancy thing. (I even saved her pee test for Beanies baby book ..a work in progress)

A few hours later Dawn kept sniffing around the office. "You smell that?" She muttered.

"Boogers again?"

"No...someone pooped dude. Did you Fart?"

"Nope...don't even gatta."

*sniffsniff*

"But I smell doo doo."

I sniffed my shoulder, I sniffed the air. I smelled nothing.

5 Minutes later....

*sniffsniff* "I smell poo!"

I finally made her sniff me because she had me convinced a fart was stuck in my underware or something, Thankfully ....no.

I feel bad for my Dawn Dinga, But at the same time, I am loving sharing all of these experiences with her. I cannot wait for the next ultrasound. (This time I will NOT wear a rainbow mumu and a viking hat!

And old man makes.....interesting,

I don't know what makes me offer people things. Lord knows that in the past three years, everyone and their cat has lived with me.

My house has been called home by a sister, a gardner, a boyfriend and an exhusband.
...A bastard cat and a very old man.

Don't get me wrong. I love living alone. With just my two wonderful kids and my Beast of a pitbull.

Alas, Life...is never perfect. And family is family.

Thankfully the Ex-husband has been chucked and left behind is two very happy children and a frail old man.

After I politely asked Chris to never darken my door again, if you please...Well...(Okay, okay I told him to get the fuck out, but let's not mince words.)

...Grampa didn't want to go, and Lord knows who could blame him. His son did not properly take care of him, and when he did he huffed and cussed and was generally pissed off because of it.

It's gross really, but hey. There is nothing I can do about the attitude of an Ex-husband.

So Grampa stayed, and I was fine with it...why? Well...I just couldn't tell him No.

So he is here, and we have muddled through this week just fine...The first day I had to do everything for him. We arranged things in the bathroom, and tried out new directions to get his wheelchair the furthest inside.

After bathroom time, my back ached and I was out of breathe, but I just told him that was due to my fat.

When he went to bed that night, in his clean and happy room I told him, "Don't worry Kent, we got this...we will figure this out." And he nodded "Yes. We do...and we will."

On Friday I changed my first poopy adult diaper. It was...interesting, and Kent sat there, his cheeks red..his head hung.

I shushed his embarrassment and told him "We all shit ourselves sometimes." Which made him laugh.
It's the first time I had to wipe a grown mans butt, but strangely I didn't mind.

When I look at this shrunkien old man I see a great father, I see the man who rocked my son to sleep and stared at him for hours because he was "So darn beautiful" I see the man who took in a scared pregnant woman and made her feel like family....I see a Veteran of this country and a man to be respected and honored.

I know that when his son was small and he couldn't walk, he was there. To guide him and help him be strong. He deserves that back.

I don't know why Chris thought this was too much for him. I guess he figured that with me working, raising two kids and starting school again, not to mention trying my best to take care of the house, yard and everything else...I could just take on One more thing....

What's an 79 year old man in the scheme of things?

But I am happy, and even though I didn't know what the fuck I was doing (or still am for that matter,) I know that together we will figure it out.

Together we got this.