Thank You for Not Writing Toilet

I have been painting the girls' bathroom this week. This afternoon, I was working on cutting in the area where the walls meet the ceiling. The girls bathroom is on the second floor, the ladder is in the basement. See where this is going? Mrs. Brilliance decided to put a short step stool on top of the toilet to paint. The stool shot out from under my feet like a greased pig and I went down hard on my right shoulder on top of the toilet tank. I washed as much paint off of me as I could, called Fidel to come home, dropped Moggie with our good neighbor next door and asked her to get Tootie from the bus until Fidel got home.

Turns out, my arm isn't broken but it is sprained. I have a bottle of pain meds awaiting me at the pharmacy and an ugly ass blue sling around my neck.

Wahhh.

I'd Just Take Their Word

A week and a half ago, my gallbladder/rib/what-the-fuck-ever pain went from moderately annoying to a give-me-a-knife-I'll-cut-this-shit-out-myself sort of pain. I walked around all bent over, huffing and puffing for a few hours and then I was fine. I didn't even have my usual evening pains for over a week.

I have my upper quadrant ultrasound scheduled for tomorrow morning. I was hoping it was all for nothing but now that the pain has kicked in again I'm not so sure. What I am sure of, however, is that I do not care to have surgery. I have never had surgery (other than minor mole removal crap) and it's not that I'm scared of the actual surgery, but I do not want to go through the whole recovery process. I have a crazy 4-year old child who needs a serious amount of supervision (see yesterday's post about her being buck naked in the front yard in broad daylight) and I don't know if I can provide adequate supervision if I'm dancing with Mr. Percoset. (I hope I spelled your boyfriend's name right, Kelly)

Anyway, in my effort to avoid surgery, I consulted Dr. Google on "treating gallbladder pain". I've never heard of anyone dying from a gallbladder problem so I figured if I can treat the pain I can live without having to face the knife. You know the natural people or the Chinese will have a cure for everything and sure enough, I found the cure. The cure involves taking herbs, mass amounts of salt water, and olive oil and lemon juice cocktails. Testimonials from people who have done this miracle cure detail the amount of stones they passed, what they looked like, etc. I had to dig more because I have a pretty good knowledge of basic anatomy and I don't remember the gallbladder being anywhere in the urinary tract. Also never heard of anyone hacking up gallstones so that left only one option. Poop. These people have dug through their own turds to find these "stones".

Needless to say, anything that involves me digging through turds is out. Get out your dancing shoes, Mr. Percoset.

Hells Bells

I woke up 10 minutes before bus time, got cussed out for painting the girls' bathroom (to be fair, maybe "You never fucking listen to me" is some man-code for 'Thanks for doing that!'") and then flipped on the tv to watch the Today show anchors jack off to the DNC happenings. I took as much of that as I could, then just turned it on CMT to veg out a little. Perhaps I'm PMSing a little too much, but I have spent more time than I care to crying over friggin' country music videos.

First off, there was the Carrie Underwood "Just a Dream" video. I loved Carrie on AI but the stuff she's done since then has sounded really screamy to me. I do like "Just a Dream" so I didn't change the station when that video came on but I wish that I had. It is a beautiful video but it is definitely a real tear jerker. Miss Carrie might want to try acting because she did a fantastic job acting in the video.

Next, Brad Paisley came on with "Waiting for a Woman". I think Brad Paisley is a genius. He seems like he's really in touch with his emotions and his wife and kid are probably pretty lucky, unless he enjoys making them teary like he made me this morning. Who needs to see Andy Griffith waiting on a bench in Heaven in a white suit? Nobody wants to think about Andy Griffith being dead, although it's just a matter of time.

I think I'm going to go kick some puppies to cheer myself up.

Can They Do That?

If people were issued licenses for parenting (as they should be), the status of mine would be in some serious jeopardy tonight.

We have been getting some lovely rain from Fay and Moggie loves to splash in puddles, so I let her be a kid and go out in the rain. She came inside completely soaked, so I took her clothes off and threw them on the back porch so she wouldn't continue to drip on the hardwoods. Those suckers will mildew before I remember they are out there, but getting back to my story, my child was unclothed. I sent her upstairs to get some dry clothing and started making dinner. I noticed it got pretty quiet so I started calling to her, with no answer. I walked over to the stairs and saw her out of the dining room windows. Stark naked, frolicking on the sidewalk without a care in the world. She was holding a ladybug umbrella, twirling and leaping in the rain. Completely naked.

I actually ran to get a camera on my way to get her in the house, but then I remembered it's not a good idea to post naked pictures of your kids (or any kids) on the internet. Just take my word for it, it was freaking hilarious.

Busted

I just got busted by the neighbors for holding an umbrella over a wiener dog so that she could pee. The poor dog just despises rain and it's not letting up any time soon. Fidel made her go out in it this morning and she just sat out there and cried like she was being whipped. He just doesn't know how to deal with a little wiener dog princess.

Not Dead Yet

I called my dad this morning at my Grandparents' house where he's been taking care of them during the day since last Thanksgiving when my Grandpa had his stroke. After a while he put my Grandfather on the phone and he was like, "Now who is this?" and I said, "Papa, this is Jennifer, your granddaughter!" and he was like, "Oh. I thought you were dead". I shouldn't have but I got tickled and just couldn't stop laughing. I told him I knew it had been too long since I've visited but I'm very much alive!

Screwing it Up for Everybody

This morning was our first time at our new bus stop, two houses away. Of course the transportation department set the bus stop in front of an unmarried and childless guy's house. His name is Matt and he's a nice guy. He has a big black Labrador on an invisible fence in the front yard. This dog is huge and sweet as anything.

First of all, I'm pretty sure that you aren't supposed to flail about like a fucking moron at the bus stop for safety reasons. Secondly, it's just not good manners to send a gaggle of first graders unsupervised to the bus stop and allow them to strip leaves from trees, turn the driveway into their personal playground and kick at the homeowner's dog. Good Neighbor's (GN) kid and Tootie were supervised by GN and me, but Neighbor Kid was on his own. Flailing about like an idiot into the street, driveway, grass, kicking at the dog, pulling on tree limbs and being his typical little asshole self.

If our bus stop gets taken away from the neighbor complaining (rightfully so) about that kid acting like a spazzy asshole, I swear I'm kicking the mom's fucking ass.

Keep Them Straight

I've taken to telling big fat lies when people try to corner me into babysitting or encroach on my personal (nap) time. I'm not really good at fibbing and I don't do it often because I have a horrible memory. I just spent 5 minutes trying to figure out who I need to avoid this weekend because I remembered telling someone that I was going out of town and I really have no plans to leave my house.

Now that the neighbor drama is starting up again, leaving the city for the weekend sounds like a pretty good idea.

Never When I'm Clean

How is it that nothing ever happens when I'm freshly showered and presentable?

This morning, I got an urgent call from Dysfunction Junction and all she said was "Please meet me in my garage immediately" in a stressed tone. I threw on some flip flops, begged Moggie to stay inside and ran over there. I wasn't sure if I was going to find a bloody carcass of a husband or an animal, but it didn't sound good. As I climbed their driveway (yes, it's that steep) I saw the husband walking around with an earpiece and a cellphone in his hand. My sense of reason was screaming "Turn your ass around and run home" but he had already seen me so I kept going. She was in the garage, removing his bags and computer from his car to keep him from leaving. She was sobbing and saying that he was drunk and wanted me to call the Po Po the second he drove off to report him for drunk driving. I went to talk to him at that point and he was no drunker than I was at that time. Unfortunately I do feel like I have to say that I hadn't had a drop because I know you all think the worst of me.

Anyway, he was sober, she was frantic and he said he wanted to leave to deescalate the situation. I laughed inside at that phrase because it sounded like something he learned in his mandatory anger management sessions.

He left, she walked over here with a pot of coffee and cried at my breakfast bar while I washed dishes. I told her it was time to cut her losses and get out of the marriage. She is not American and says she can't find work. I'm sorry but there are plenty of non-Americans working everywhere you look. There are jobs out there, you just have to swallow your pride and do what you need to do to get on your feet. You can't check out of Kohls or Kroger without being asked if you want a job. I understand that Kohls or Kroger won't be able to pay the salary to which she is accustomed, but there comes a time when you just have to buck up and take what you can get.

I relayed all of this crap to Fidel and he said, "Sometimes you are just too good of a person", which was pretty funny because I don't feel like a good person for encouraging divorce and forcing people to get jobs. Sometimes life isn't pretty.

You're Doing it Wrong

It doesn't end up like this on Swingtown.