This is Why I'm Doomed.

My reincarnate. She is why I'm doomed. She's the cutest little troublemaker in the south. She annoys me to no end but makes me laugh out loud into pigsnorts.

My tween. She is also why I'm doomed. She's a melting pot of emotions that I don't understand. Seriously, stop crying already!

A conversation with my reincarnate.

K: Mommy! I read this entire chapter book!

Me: Awesome! How much points is it worth?

K: Enough to shut my teacher up about my AR goal.

Me: Hey now, don't be rude.

K: Ooops, sorry. It's worth a lot though.

Me: So you can take the test on it tomorrow then.

K: Oh yah, I'm so gonna ace that test. There's just one thing I don't get.

Me: Hmmmmm? (At this point, I'm thinking that I'm gonna get screwed into reading this damn book. I really don't wanna have to read a 2nd grade chapter book.)

K: Can you explain something to me?

Me: ::sigh:: Sure sweetie. What's up?

K: Who would name their kid "Cha-low?"

Me: "Cha-low?"

K: Yah, isn't that the craziest name? That was the main character's name. How embarrassing!

Me: ::confusion::realization::sigh:: Sweetie.....that's......Chloe.

K: Ooooooooooh, that makes more sense.

I'm doomed.

A conversation with my melting pot of a tween.

M: Mom? What does "Shawty" mean?

Me: Why?

M: Cause the next door neighbors are always saying it.

Me: Um.....how do I define this? I'm Jean, your WHITE mom. I haven't any idea how to explain what "shawty" means.

M: Whatever.

She walks away and I don't see her for about 15 minutes. This is the conversation I overheard between her and her dad.

M: Hey dad, I have a nickname at school now.

Him: Oh yah, what is it?

M: "Shawty!"

Him: Shorty? Who the hell calls you that?

M: Everybody does....um...cause I'm short!

Him: You're one of the tallest girls in your class. That makes no sense. And that isn't what "shawty" means.

M: What does it mean then?

At this point, I decide to call her out. Cause in high school, my nickname was "Bitchy!"

Me: You're such a liar! You just asked me like 10 minutes ago what that meant....now it's your nickname at school.

M: It is! I'm not a liar.

Me: Whatever "Shawty!" You so crazy! (I said this in my best Martin Lawrence voice.)

Dad: Oh snap.....you got schooled yo!

Me: Old school homie!

M: Stawwwwwwwwp! I hate you guys. ::tears::

Me: My work here is done. Go forth "Shawty" and be superfly with your bad self.


I'm doomed but it sure is funny.

Have a great Friday!

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


No Sudden Movements!

No sudden movements.

A rule that could be applied to any problem in life. Whether you are a man that severely pissed off a woman. You're a child that said the complete wrong thing to your mother. You're a boss that has pushed an employee too far. See what I mean?

No sudden movements.

It's been quite a week and I can't put my finger on it if it's a good week or a bad week. It feels a little weird. Like there is some weirdness in the air trying to screw with me.

Sunday: Katie had her soccer game and we came to the decision that she's not having fun anymore on this team. It was a sad realization but one that needed to be noticed. The problem with this is, we either put her on another academy team that is more expensive (which is NEVER affordable) or put her back on the Rec league. Both have their downfalls but most important is Katie needs to start having fun again. Yah, she kicks ass but is she having fun kicking that ass?

Monday: I went to work. I was literally gut-kicked and finally decided to gut-kick back. I said some things, he said some things, I said more things. Basically when I left, they watched a completely different person leave. I'm not the new girl anymore. I'm the the scape goat that you can blame all your problems on anymore. I'm not the type of girl that takes bullshit lying down so let me introduce myself to you properly. Don't. Fuck. With. Me.

Tuesday: I woke up inspired. I've been fighting this idea in my head for a month now on a new manuscript. I have an unfinished one already. I didn't really want to start a new one without finishing the work in progress. Well, forget it. I'm stalling the old and starting the new. Something in my head really wants to express itself. Who am I to hold it back? It was the first day in a long time where I really felt good. Good inside and out. God, I love that feeling. I just want to bottle it and keep it forever. Well then all that went to shit when my pubescent 12 year old decided to slap me across the face with reality. I kind already talked about that yesterday and I really don't want to open that bottle again.

Wednesday: Ah Hump Day. I woke up feeling tired and like I could've slept for another 8 hours. I should've went back to bed after the kids went to school but I didn't because I offered to work a shift for one of the other technicians. Yah, I had no idea what I was walking into after Monday. Well, it wasn't that bad. Seems like Dennis Hopper is aware of the rule, no sudden movements. I walked in, played the role of a nice lil' technician, put the order away, counted all the autofills and at 4pm.....I was GONE! By 4:19pm, I had an ice cold beer in my hand. But something about last night felt off. I just don't know.

Today: Who knows!? The husband took the day off today so I think I'll be nose deep in my laptop working on my new idea. We'll see.

Have you ever just felt an eeriness in the air? Like someone walked over your grave per say? Or a monkey just jumped on your back like a ninja but you couldn't decide if that was a bad thing? I mean, monkeys are cute. Is it really bad to have one on your back? Um.....yah! Cause monkeys shit and there ain't nothing good about a shitting monkey!

The week is almost over and I'm hoping by next week, the eery feeling will be gone. The walker over my grave will be long gone. The shitting monkey will have either become potty trained or died a horrible death of no fault of my own. If the monkey does decide to stay, I plan on calling it Axle.

But until then, I plan on taking my own advice.

No sudden movements. Happy Thursday! Have a nice day.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.

I'm Not the Normal Type of Girl.

I know, SHOCKER!

But it's true. I don't like jewelry. I'm not a big fan of shopping for clothes. My shoe collection is so sad. Pampering such as pedicures and manicures are like torture to me. Massages? Yah, I bruise too easily.

I have a wardrobe of tube tops and shorts. I have some dresses but those dresses consist of one black dress suitable for funerals and all the others look like I'm going to Mexico. My shoes consist of over 25 pairs of flip flops and one pair of black heels. They cost me $5.88 and they are my favorites. When they die, I will probably cry for a week. I feel that way about a pair of black flip flops too. My flip flops are my staple. I even wear flip flops in the winter. Yah, I'm one of those whiners. "I'm freezing!" Well, put some damn shoes on then!

Personal pampering for most women is heaven. Pampering for me is just having the ability to sit on a comfortable chair with a beer in my hand. Pedicures make me want to vomit. I've had em so don't try to convince me otherwise. Feet, even my own, make me squirm. Don't touch my feet. You will regret it....ask my ex-boyfriend, who shall remain nameless. Manicures suck! My nails grow beautifully without the help of those ninjas that file and paint. Every freaking time I've ever gotten a manicure, my nails ended up breaking and looking like crap.

Jewelry. Every holiday, when the jewelry brochures start coming in the mail, I would turn the pages hoping to see something that I liked. Every flip of the page making that sound of defeat to me.

"I can't wear those, my ears reject earrings."

"I might wear another ring but I like the rings I already wear. What's the point?"

I'm just not like most girls. My idea of "girly" is that 5-7 days every month and that isn't a good thing. And don't get me wrong, I'm not sporty either. The idea of running around and acting like a kid again makes me hyperventilate just thinking about it. I'm just different. I'm not high maintenance. I don't expect much. Is that a good thing? First instincts might be yes but after awhile it gets a little annoying.

It's hard to find friends that share my dislikes. It's hard to keep a lasting relationship when I make it so easy. A friend who enjoys a pedicure thinks it would be weird that I'd rather get my eyebrows waxed. A man who knows I'm not about the expensive things would take advantage of that by never going the extra mile when he needs to.

My lack of "girliness" is a quandary though as I'm raising two girls who haven't quite figured out what type of girls they're going to be. My oldest is on light speed to becoming a woman and doesn't want to be. My youngest is desperately trying to speed up the process and failing miserably at it. All of this is happening while I am just trying to reach back into my failing brain of memories to when I was a "girl." I can't remember the important stuff.

1) When did I start worrying about if I smelled good? (Because seriously, it's like pulling teeth to get these girls to take a shower! Gahhhhhhd.)

2) When was a hairy leg gross? (I wish they weren't, I really hate shaving.)

3) When were boys not the evil, disgusting, incarnate of slime? (Wait, did that ever change?)

4) Should I have her dad talk to his daughter about feminine napkins? (Sorry, had to put that one in. Still funny.)

And finally 5) Is it a good thing that I've always been brutally honest with my daughters about EVERYTHING? Sex, hygiene and all the stuff mom's should be embarrassed to talk about with their daughters?

So, even though I've come to love my lack of "girliness," it's kind of bitten me in the ass in this block of my life. Because in reality, my girls are gonna have to figure this kind of stuff out on their own.

If they ever need fashion advice on what flip flops go with what tube top though....I'm their gal!

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


I'll Fix You My Pretty.....and your little dog too!

Today was Tuesday which means I have to get up as usual but I actually have to leave the house for my carpool. It was a great morning in spite of the fact that I could've slept for an eternity longer. The Blu-Ray was fixed....by me. I read up on the blu-ray player I have and figured out how to update it with my wireless network. I am now watching Avatar on blu-ray. Yes....I am the plus in this relationship. Found my loophole and read the fine print....oh yes I did.

Tuesday Carpool people and I can't possibly do it justice. It really needs pictures and audio but since I got neither of those, let's see how good my writing is.

M2: I'm sorry, I didn't know it was so late.

Me: It's 7:22am, you're not late. You're right on time in Jeanieland.

M2: I hurt my arm playing basketball with my dad last night and my mom's all mad at me because I can't practice my piano. Well....she's not mad...

Me: Yah right....she's beating you, isn't she?

M2: Yah, she's got a mean left hook.

::E gets in the car::

Me: Hello E. Ready for your tests today?

E: Oh I'm as ready as I'll ever be Miss Daisy.

M2: You're weird.

E: You're weirder.

Me: That's okay, M's the weirdest so she's got you all beat.

M (daughter): Why mother? Why do you always have to.....?"

E: Oh dang, have you ever seen her when she's hungry? She acts like she's drunk and going to die.

Me: I have, I'm the one who has to feed this child.

M (daughter): I'm not weirder than you E. You're just plain lame.

Me: Oh, that's not true, E's my favorit...est boy in the neighborhood.

M (daughter): Not mine....I like (bad kid who shall remain nameless) Oh, I kinda just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Me: Yah, there's no way (bad kid who shall remain nameless) is your fave. Swallow that vomit!

E: Oh that kid needs a good butt kicking at least twice a day.

M (daughter): Then do it already!

E: Oh I did. Yesterday I had to tackle him and sit on him until he stopped. I said, "Boyah, you bettah quit child!"

Me: ::snort:: So what you're saying is you turned all Aunt Jemima on his ass?? What's with the southern accent...did you get your switch and whip him till he squealed like a pig?"

E: Oh hush you! You should have your husband teach him a lesson.

M2: Oh yah, your husband is a little scary. That one day I came to the door to get M and he opened the door, I almost ran away screaming.

Me: That's cause you woke him up. He's like a bear waking up from hibernation. FOOD! ::scratch scratch:: WHERE'S MY BERRIES???

M (daughter): ::snort:: You even added the scratching. When he wakes me up, as he walks away, he's always scratching "something."

E: Let's stop talking about him....he's so scary, he probably senses that we're talking smack about him.

Me: Okay, this conversation doesn't reach his ears. Deal? We're all safe from the bear.

M (daughter): Hey mom, you see that tall kid in the green? That's the kid that doesn't believe in God.

Me: It's okay he doesn't believe in God.

E: He's Catholic!!! Oh and a....douchebag too.

Me: You finally learn what a douchebag was? And being a Catholic explains it. Catholic parents are like Nazis.....most kids grow out of it.

M (daughter): Yah but he's always swearing at me. He's the one who called me the "B" word.

Me: ::pulling up to the curb::pushing the button for the window down on M's side:: You want me to talk to him? I'll teach him a few new words and have him crying for his mommy.

Sidenote: As the window is slowly rolling down, all three kids in my car squeal nervously and scoot down, hiding. From an outsider looking in, I look like the only occupant of the car. The kid (the non-God believer) looks over and I ask, "What are you looking at?"

The snickers and sighs throughout the car almost give them away. Of course the fact that they actually had to get out....really gave them away.

E: Thanks a lot.

M2: Yah, I bet he's calling you the "B" word too.

M (daughter): Mother, one day, I'm going to get you back.

Me: Nah, one day, you'll be doing this to your own daughter. Have a great test day weirdos!!!

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


It's a Battery Life

{{dirty thought}}

Now that I got that outta my system, I'll explain. It might be a surprising fact that I'm a very positive person in this relationship. I always think the best and think that positive energy makes everything turn out okay. And no, I'm not the type of person that thinks I'm unlucky when it doesn't. I don't think the world is out to get me. I don't think that at all.

I know, I've mentioned karma but I truly believe in karma. Karma isn't out to get me though. It's just there to bang me over the head with reality sometimes.

When my husband and I first started going out, we were always the unlucky couple. Our proms were inundated with flat tires, limo hit and runs, missed dances by like 2 minutes and reservations not in the system when we arrived at the restaurant. Long trips either had an overheated radiator 3 hours into the trip or a speeding ticket 5 minutes into the trip. Now you would think these occurrences would lead me into a negative way of thinking. Not so! I just think life thought we needed some excitement. Thanks life, 'preciate it!

20 years into our relationship, it hasn't changed much. I am the positive side of this battery and my husband is the negative. He is the one that believes that life is out to get us. Any kink in his chain, he falls to pieces and goes on a tangent on how life sucks. If I get a kink in my chain, I usually take a breath and patiently unkink the chain.

How does this type of relationship work? Well shit! I haven't a freaking clue. It drives me bonkers that this logical man believes that luck is not on our side. It drives me crazy that this man actually believes luck is the down cursor of all our "misfortunes."

Luck has nothing to do with it. Luck is just what you decide to get you down....or up for that matter. I believe and been proved correct most of the time that if you've been wronged, you can usually find a loophole or some fine print to get out of it. Yesterday, for a split second, I saw a glimpse of this positive energy attack my husband. He was attempting to read that fine print or find that elusive loophole. I've never laughed so hard in awhile.

Husband: I just broke another tooth.

Me: Again!?

Husband: Damn, freaking Doritos.

Me: You're blaming the Doritos and not wondering why you've once again broke another tooth?

Husband: I think it's a crown.

Me: Oh well that's good. You'll just need $500 for a new crown and not $1000 for a root canal.

Husband: Do you remember who did this crown?

Me: I really don't pay that much attention to your dental hygiene. That's your own thing.

Husband: I don't think they're supposed to break like this. I think I may get something out of this.

Me: You think a crown has a lifetime warranty?

Husband: Well, that or some kind of guarantee!

Me: Sweetie? It's a crown. I don't think crowns have a warranty more than a week after they install it. It ain't a Blu-Ray player.

Husband: Well, that's bullshit!

Me: No, that's just life. Quit eating so god damn much and breaking your teeth on stooopid things.

Husband: So this is my fault?

Me: Um....no honey, you're right. I blame the Doritos and the faulty crown.

And there you have it. He tried and he failed to find the brighter side. Did he hold on to this new way of thinking that life is NOT out to get him?

Nope! Two hours later, after putting in our new Blu-ray of Avatar.

Husband: It's not working!!!!

Me: Calm down.

Husband: It's been loading for like 2 minutes.

Me: Well the pack came with a DVD too so just put that one in.

Husband: This is bullshit! We need a new Blu-Ray player...shit, we might as well get a new TV too. This place is going to shit! When it rains, it's a fucking shit-storm on the Bonifacio's.

Me: Yah, poor you. Want a Dorito?

Happy Monday people! It's gonna be a fantastic, busy day!

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


Friday Carpool

I'm going to work this morning for my day of drug pushing and smiling through gritted teeth. Can you feel my excitement? It's electric, isn't it?

So this morning was my Friday carpool so I hope you enjoy.

M2: I just want you to know that you're my favorite carpool....other than my mom.

Me: Well of course! Where else can you get a ride to school AND have a meaningless conversation?

M2: Let's tell E he has a stain on his face and see him go absolutely crazy trying to wipe it off.

Me: Oh sweetie, you know E could care less.

M2: You think so?

Me: Only one way to find out.

::E gets in the car::

M2: You got something on your forehead E.

E: It's probably maple syrup...I'll save it for later.

Me: See, told ya.

E: I'm so incredibly tired this morning. My parents are making us all do the P90X before our cruise this summer. My dad says he wants all of us to have 8-packs.

Me: 8-packs? I've got a 6-pack but it ain't from doing sit-ups!

E: Are you doing the P90X too?

Me: Ah hell no! I'm staying strong at my weight and I ain't doing nothing to screw it up. And you need to tell your dad as soon as he has an 8-pack...you'll get one too.

E: You're trying to get me grounded again, aren't you?

Me: No. I just think it's borderline abuse to make your kids do P90X. I may check the Internet and report your parents.

E: Dude! If you put a stop to the mass amounts of brown rice they're making me eat...I might love you for all eternity.

M2: You've still got something on your forehead.

Me: Yah, how do you have maple syrup on your forehead? I doubt that type of food is on the approved P90X list.

E: When my dad left for the gym and my mom went to wake up my brother and sister, I managed to eat a waffle in like 20 seconds.

M2: So you're just gonna leave that on your forehead?

Me: ::snort:: M2! Give it up!

M (daughter): What I find amazing is you totally got snagged cheating on your P90X diet.

E: Who pulled your string?

M (daughter): If the string is me finally speaking, I pulled my own string. The day you get an 8-pack will be the day I will become your slave for the day.

E: What do I get for a 6-pack?

Me: I will be your slave for the day!

E: How would I explain that to my parents?

M2: Probably the same explanation of what's on your forehead.

Me: See ya later my little cherubs!

E: ::whispering:: Do I really have something on my forehead?

Me: ::whispering:: No dummy.

Have a great Friday people!!! It's gonna be quite a busy day. I can feel it.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


No words.....just cracking nuts.

So my phone rings yesterday and before I pressed the button, I had no idea that I was about to find out my sweet 8 year old is really a bully.

Concerned parent: Is your husband there?

Me: No, he's working.

CP: Oh, I know all about that. Is this "Miss Jean?"

Me: Um....yah, some people call me that.

CP: Well, your daughter is in my son's 2nd grade class.

Me: Okay.

CP: And your daughter called my son "gay" and kicked him in the....um....the nuts today. Then she proceeded to tell my 1st grade daughter that her brother was "gay."

Me: (GASP) Are you kidding me?

CP: I wish I was but my son just came home and mentioned it. My wife thought we needed to talk to you about it.

Me: Okay, wait. What is your son's name and clarify.

Now the clarification was who the boy was and yes, my sweet little girl did exactly what he said.

Me: I assure you, I am going to take care of this immediately.

Oh good god people, I was mortified. So after finding my daughter and telling her to get inside, I asked her point blank, "Do you have something to tell me?"

Now here is my curse, she lied immediately. Her first instinct was to lie. Her second instinct was to tell the truth. Now the truth only came out when I threatened her life and assured her that I knew the truth. Then I find out that this nutcracking thing is a neighborhood problem as well. The mouth? Yah, she's been dropping f-bombs and other bombs as well.

The outcome?

She's grounded until further notice, no TV, no computer, no iPod. She will be on a first name basis with her four walls in her room until I see fit to release her. She wrote an apology note to every person she's ever touched or swore at. Oh hand cramps!

My only question?

How completely screwed am I with this kid?

Forget it, don't answer that. She is me, reincarnated. I'm so incredibly screwed.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


Living in a Sea of Estrogen.

When I was growing up, my father was the only guy in our family. He was always surrounded by moody women and girly angst. Poor guy.

I never quite understood the qualms of it because I was one of the....angsters? Today, I look at my husband and can finally see the predicament of being outnumbered. Don't get me wrong or anything, I don't feel sorry for him. I do however understand when he gets that look in his eye. You know the look. The, "Oh good god, what's wrong now?" look. Yah, he has that look on his face a lot.

As an adult female, I can rationalize when I'm in a mood. I can actually give fair warning. As an adult female though, I don't have the patience for the "other" females in the house. I mean seriously, how in the hell can you be smiling one minute then crying the next. Check yourself girls. Don't mess with the momma bear cause I will eat you....with BBQ sauce.

Another problem is we haven't quite reached full capacity of just how bad it could be. No, my oven is closed. I'm not adding onto the angst with more children. I'm just cringing when these little women become real women with all their hormones and mass amounts of tampons....or feminine napkins as my husband calls them. When that happens, I may have to find a way to sweeten the pot of home because my husband is going to run out of here screaming.

M (daughter): Can I walk to Market Street with my friends?

Me: It'll be 8 o'clock in 20 minutes. You need to be inside by then. Can you make it back in 20 minutes.

M (daughter): I think so. I'll text you if I'm gonna be late.

Me: Um.....no. You either commit to coming back on time or you don't go. ::looking at my husband:: Am I being unreasonable?

Husband: It's a school night. I don't see her making it back in time.

M (daughter): Fine! I'll just stay home, in my flowery room so you can keep me prisoner!

Me: Are you freaking kidding me?

Husband: I know she just didn't say that.

Me: Oh yes she did!

M (daughter): You never let me do anything! I'm in 6th grade and you treat me like a baby.

Me: Which is it? A prisoner or a baby? Because I can do both.

M (daughter): You think you're so funny but you're not.

Me: Oh I ain't trying to be funny right now. I'm asking a question. If you want funny, let's go! You, my dear, are about three seconds from being grounded. You're about 5 seconds from your dad showing what a prisoner really is. Annnnnd you're about 10 seconds from wishing you were never born.

M (daughter): I'm not afraid of you.

Husband: Oh shit! And we always thought your were the smart one. Your mom scares the shit outta me so you better take some cover M. Be afraid, be very afraid.

Did I beat the crap outta her? Nope! Oh boy, did I want to but she's 12 years old. I merely followed through with every threat.

1) I grounded her.

2) I told her dad, "If you don't take over, I might do something that'll put me in jail."

So therefore, 3) Her dad took over and as I've explained before, my husband is an asshole. He took her to her room, yelled at her for being rude and dramatic.....and M ended the night wishing she was dead.

Victory was mine!

I've also found the loophole of living in a sea of estrogen. Claim hormones and the testosterone in the house takes over.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


How do some people actually live to the ripe old age of 30?

Going back to work has been somewhat of a reminder of how stupid people are. I mean, seriously, these people are having sex, making more stupid people and making our lives miserable. Why God, WHY????

Yesterday was an extremely busy day. I worked with Dennis Hopper but it was too busy for any pop quizzes. He and I were too busy to butt heads or get into any pissing contests either. Yesterday is what I'd like to call, "I'm an idiot and I'm going to call or go into a pharmacy," day. And boy oh boy, did they call and did they come in.

I did my best to smile and put my sweet voice on. I think I accomplished the amazing feat of not alerting these people that I think they are complete idiots. Well, I almost accomplished it. It seemed like every customer that walked in was a new customer. A new customer needs a new profile. A new customer usually has like 5+ prescriptions to fill as well. A new customer thinks that 5+ prescriptions should take less than 20 minutes. Those new customers are stupid. (Smile) Seriously though, they're stupid.

Oh and yesterday was the day that people kept asking ridiculous questions.

Customer: "Hi, I just called and plugged my refill numbers in but I wanted you to check and see that it went through."

Here's me! "Okay, lemme check on that."

Here's what I wanna say! "Why the hell did you waste the time plugging the numbers in then? The automated system is supposed to make my life and your life easier. You. Have. Just. Wasted. Both. Mine. And. Yours. Time. DUMBASS!!!!

Customer: "I know you're busy but I'm still confused about how to transfer a prescription and why I have to transfer the prescription in the first place."

Here's me! "Okay, lemme explain it to you again."

Here's what I wanna say! "Hmmmm, you've called three times already. I've said the same thing to you twice and have changed nothing about the explanation. If you know I'm busy, why in the hell are you bugging me AGAIN??!!!"

Customer: "Why isn't my prescription ready yet? What does the insurance have to do with why my prescription isn't counted?"

Here's me! "Oh, it's ready. Lemme run your prescription receipt through the insurance though."

Here's what I wanna say! "Well, my boss doesn't believe in running prescriptions as cash if we know there is an insurance. But if you wanna pay $159.00 for your prescription, I'd be happy to get you outta here. Oh, you don't wanna pay that much? Then shut the fuck up and gimme your insurance card....bitch!"

Customer: "If the pharmacist is on his lunch from 1:30 to 2pm, why won't my prescription be ready until 2:20pm?"

Here's me! "It's a standard 20 minute wait. We might have it done sooner but the pharmacist isn't set to work until 2pm. We'll get it ready as soon as he gets back."

Here's what I wanna say! "You are an ass. Seriously, go away. Take your prescription for herpes and shove it up your ass!"

And finally, my favorite one of the day!

Customer: "Has my Vicodin refill been approved yet?"

Here's me! "No, I'm sorry. We faxed it this morning and the doctor hasn't returned our call to approve or deny yet."

Here's what I wanna say! "Listen you! I understand that as a pharmacy technician, I should be sympathetic to your 'pain.' However, I'm not. If there is a god, your doctor will deny this refill request....but judging by the way today has gone...there isn't. Call us back later you tweeker! Take a freaking Tylenol or something!"

Oh yah, I got through the entire day not saying what I wanted to say. I smiled and I sweet talked my way through the day. At exactly 3:57pm, it was proven that I'm not as sweet as I want to be.

Customer: "I was there yesterday picking up my medications and the pain medication wasn't in the bag."

Here's me! "Oh really? Which one's were in the bag? Oh the blood pressure and thyroid were there but NOT the pain medication? Well that's weird! You signed for all three of them, the pain medication isn't in the pharmacy anymore....I suggest you look again."

Customer: "Nope, you guys didn't give it to me.

Me: "Please hold for a manager....he's gonna love this one! Oh and I can assure you, you ain't gonna fool him either."

And then it was 4pm! Buh-bye! It felt good waving as I booked it out of there.

Have a great Tuesday people! I'm not at work so it is going to be fantastic!

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


My Team

I like to think of my family as my team. Let's just say we are a soccer team. They yell at you if you need to move. They cheer for you when you've done a good job. They stick up for you if you've been wronged.

I'd like to think my "team" thinks that I give all of that. Sometimes though, I don't feel the same from them. Don't get me wrong or anything, it's only occasionally I feel that way. Trust me, I know for a fact, my "team" has my back and they know I'm a pinnacle to our "team."

Okay, enough quotes. Those are so annoying, aren't they? I'm a hand-talker so even more annoying, I am always doing the "air-quote" sign too. Yah...I'm one of those. It's so incredibly annoying.


I'm a very passionate woman. I fight for what I believe in. If I feel like I've been wronged or one of my peeps have been wronged, I will fight to the death to defend them. Seriously, I would. It's an admirable quality but my husband is constantly holding me back. In his defense, I'm constantly holding him back as well but that's just cause he gets his panties in a wad for the stupidest things. I get mine in a wad for really good reasons.

Like when an adult yells at one of my kids.

Oh hell no! If I'm standing right there, that's my job!

Like when somebody talks smack about my husband (Who I've openly admitted is an asshole).

Oh a hell to the no! What are you, stupid? He may be an asshole but you can't talk bad about him. That's my job too.

I pick and choose my battles. Some battles are just a waste of time but when it comes to my family, that battle is always worth it. I've always been able to take a breath and relax before I react though. I am smart enough to know that spur of the moment battles are usually more elevated than they need to be. I always think before I react. (That is something a lot of people need to do.)

Case in point: We had a center line referee that was a complete tool on Saturday. I had an hour to think about my reaction before the game was over. The ref made horrible calls, yelled at our girls and then explained that he's not perfect. I'll admit humbly that I was very rude to him throughout the game but come on, I was pissed. I also wasn't the only parent on the sidelines getting pissed either....I was the ringleader though.

Referee: I'm not perfect. I can't guarantee a perfectly called game.

Me: That's a freaking understatement. You have definitely not made ONE good call.

Referee: They're not handballs if you are protecting your face.

Me: Oh, okay. But when our girl got hit in the face, you called it a handball? Didn't they teach anatomy in your backwoods school? Your face is not a hand.

Referee: My uniform is green. That makes me the final call. If you don't like it, I don't care.

Me: Hey girls? Next time you get a free kick....aim for the green uniform and make it a hard kick! If it hits him in the face....we'll call a handball.

Referee: You're about 2 minutes from getting ejected from the field.

Me: Isn't the game almost over? You're basically allowing me to go home. Ow, that hurts.

Referee: I can also ban you from seeing anymore games.

Me: Season's over next weekend. Again, your power in that green uniform ain't bupkiss buddy. Try again.

When the game was over, we had a tie game that should've been won. It wasn't the girl's fault, it wasn't the other team's fault. We had a referee that sucked. But it was just a soccer game. We weren't playing for money. It's a soccer association. The kids are playing for fun....NOT scholarships. I understand that. But after the game, I found out the referee in the green uniform was saying things to the girls that no adult should say to a 12 year old. Oh, I was so mad. My husband tried to hold me back. He got pissed at me actually when I ignored his pleas and went over to the referee. (This is my example of not being supported to fight for my "team")

Me: What's your name?

Referee: G*****

Me: Is that like Cher or do you have a last name?

Referee: It's G***** M*****. Why? Are you going to complain about me because your team lost?

Me: Um....we tied dumbass.

Referee: Same thing.

Me: Figures. You're an even bigger asshole off the field.

Referee: I'm man enough not to comment but I think you know what I'm thinking.

Me: I would imagine with the ridiculous calls you made over the last hour, there ain't nothing going on in there but crickets. But hey, good game.....would've been better if you had choked on that overblown whistle but there's always next game.

And I sauntered back over to my husband and daughter with a wiggle to my hips. M (my daughter) and my husband of course was furious at me but they sure wanted to know what I said. They sure laughed their asses off when I told them. But again, don't screw around with my "team." I will make you cry or make you look like a dumbass. It's good to be on my "team" in my opinion.

Of course, my "team" might disagree but I'd battle them and change their minds.

Have a great Monday people.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


iPhone Blogging

I'm reserving the right to add on later to this. Today is my Friday work day and I had neither the time or the patience to come up with something witty.

However, I'm going to take this moment to confess something. I love my iPhone. I can do pretty much anything with it and it in return pays me back in spades. I can Facebook. I can play games. I can look up a fact my husband claims isn't a fact. (Probably my favorite feature) There's this game. Words with Friends. I've got about 10 games going right now. I'm pretty good and when I lose, it drives me crazy. Last night my husband tried to convince me that the word "axis" is a deer and the other word "axus" is the line definition. Oh yah people, I won that battle and then some.

So I've begun writing my blog today on my iPhone. I'll probably finish later on the computer though. These tiny little keys aren't real easy to navigate. I expect the topic later will switch as I'm not allowed to have my phone with me in the pharmacy. Well, I might be allowed but I know if I had it...I'd be useless. I have to concentrate.

To be continued....

Okay, so the day is done and I'm still iPhoning it on this here blog. It was a pretty good day actually. As usual, when I went to lunch and returned, Dennis Hopper started his usual, "Um...er....you're doing this wrong." Essentially making me feel like he said, "You. Are. An. IDIOT!"

No, he doesn't say that. I've mentioned before that he's a pretty nice guy. He just has these idiosyncrasies that drive me bonkers. The training me by making me feel like an idiot though is my least favorite thing. So today when he began, I stopped him. Look, I can't work in this type of environment anymore. I know, I know. Suck it up Jeanie. But seriously, this me being quiet and taking it up the wazoo just isn't like me. So I stopped him.

Was I rude?


I know, to some that might be a shocker but I really like this job. It feels like home again. Even after the 15th discount card I have to rerun...I still like it. (Seriously though, why don't the freaking drug companies just lower their prices instead of giving out discount cards? Share the wealth, you dumbasses!)

So I just explained to him (gently) that I can't learn like that. I'm not and never have been ashamed of admitting I made a mistake or didn't know how to do something. So in turn, I think I deserve the same respect. Don't talk down to me or over me. Please don't make me cry. And you know what, I don't need a pat on the back or an "atta boy" but if I am doing something right....could ya maybe let me know instead of focusing on the negative? Throw me a freaking cookie or something!

So what happened?

He showed me the better way of doing what I was doing then proceeded to trip me....almost making me eat floor. (It was an accident) But seriously Dennis! I'm trying NOT to look like an idiot here! Oh, Oh! Then he threw a pop quiz in there about the importance of triple checking an Escribe prescription.

"Triple checking is important on an Escribe prescription because....."

Whereas the three techs in the pharmacy, myself included, bumbled out an, "Oh! Um...er...."

Yah, "Pop quiz asshole! What time do I leave again?"

But all in all, a stellar day. I am happy, healthy and sitting at a bar with my husband toasting to both of those things. Have a fantastic weekend people! I know I will be wearing a gigantic smile...even if I'm being forced to watch soccer game after soccer game. Go Eclipse and McKinney FC!

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


Arguing for the Sake of Arguing.

This isn't me by any means. Personally, I don't like arguing all that much. When I get backed into a corner or feel that I'm losing an argument...I tend to get kind of violent. Violent meaning I want to drive somebody's, anybody's head through a wall.

My violent tendencies only increase if the argument is so incredibly stupid that I can't believe I'm wasting my time on it.

After going to bed last night, AT FREAKING MIDNIGHT, I snuggled in my blankets with my Nook in the ON position, my husband wants to take this time to talk. I have to admit, when I'm comfortable and have my reading brain ON, please don't try to talk to me. My husband knows this but never really cares about this either.

Husband: I'm so glad you got those tickets back to California. I was sweatin' those.

Me: You're welcome. You know me, give me a job to do and I'm going to do it. I'm just glad we land in Oakland.

Husband: I'm just glad you got us on Southwest and we don't have to pay for our checked baggage.

Me: Me too. (At this point, I'm really not paying attention. I've started reading.)

Husband: The only thing I hate about Southwest is the way they seat you. You'd think they'd seat you from back to front but they start from the front. Idiots!

Me: (I've stopped reading. My husband's knowledge of anything travel is zero.) No they don't. They don't have assigned seating. You pick your seat when you get on the plane.

Husband: No they don't. We had assigned seats the last time.

Me: What last time? We've never ridden on Southwest. It was always an affiliate.

Husband: Yes we did and we had assigned seats.

Me: Hey babe? What can I say right now to end this tit for tat you got going right now? I don't have the patience to do this right now.

Husband: Admit I'm right.

Me: Whatever. In two months when I'm proved right, I get nothing. This is stupid. You're welcome and I'm sorry you know nothing about Southwest.

Sadly, this went on for at least twenty more minutes. It was a stupid argument that escalated to little zingers from my husband.

Him: I'm gonna get some part times because we're going to need some extra cash.

(Meaning: Thank god you have me because I always have extra cash.)

Him: You know my parents are gonna be making us dinner every night. Maybe you could make dinner a couple times when we're there.

(Meaning: You're going to have to pay your way with this trip somehow.)

Him: You're not planning on turning this into a Jean vacation by going out with your friends all the time we're there, are you?

(Meaning: I'm going to start the guilt early on how I've lost touch with all of my friends and you still have most of yours.)

Let's call this what it is though. It was past midnight and we were tired. He knew exactly what he was doing and I did too. Did I close my eyes finally, thinking how long I would have to smother him before he stopped breathing?

No. I merely said, "Goodnight sweetie. The best part about going home is we get to see your parents and your family. All the rest, like me seeing my friends and showing the girls where we're from are just fantastic bonuses. I can't wait and even better? If home starts to get on our nerves....we get to leave and come back to our haven in Texas."

So, who won this argument? Why, me of course.

1) He's still alive.
2) I never once called him a dumbass.
3) The family vacation is going to be great no matter what.

Happy Thursday people! It's my last day off so I plan on doing it right.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


I Just Don't Feel Like It.

What did I wake up thinking today? Well, to be honest, it was just how badly I wished I could throw my alarm clock through the wall. I am so tired today.

Husband: Damn, you look like you didn't sleep at all last night. Why are you so tired?

These kind of questions bug the crap out of me. Maybe because I'm tired or maybe because they're dumb questions.

I don't know why I'm so tired. I am though so leave me alone. Don't pick on me please. (This wasn't my answer, this is what I wanted to say though. I merely shrugged my shoulders as I curled into a ball and said, "How should I know?"

This type of request is like a waste of air. My husband never leaves anything alone. He will pick a scab. He will poke a bear that just woke up from a hibernation. But worst of all, he will continue to bug me until my head explodes so he can reply, "What's your problem? Why are you so sensitive? Are you about to start your period?"

This is my life. Just call me a bear and imagine I'm being poked constantly because my husband loves to antagonize me. (Don't go there! I ain't thinking dirty!)

But this is what I woke up thinking today.

Why is my husband's favorite thing perfecting the art of bugging the shit out of me?

Of course, he probably woke up thinking, why is my wife such a bitch and how have I lived with her so long?

Sounds about right to me. I've got all day to shake this mood off though so when he comes home tonight, we'd have forgotten all about the morning.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


Training Gone Terribly Wrong

I'm trying to remember if I ever trained anybody. I don't think I have but I could be wrong. I'm not a very patient person so I don't think training would be my forte.

The way my work trains is by mistake. Okay? My problem with this type of training is the way they go about it. Let's say I'm doing something wrong. It's human. Well, I've noticed that when my mistake is being corrected they tend to try to make me feel stupid because I made the mistake in the first place. Yah, I'm anything BUT stupid. Don't push me people!

My problem is, I can't figure out who's the ring leader in this. Who's ass do I kick when this happens? That's my number one problem. I don't want to get mad at the wrong person. I don't want to excuse the wrong person either. I just want it to stop. If this is how you train a person, you are about to lose me. I'm not a quitter but I absolutely refuse to allow you to train me this way.

It's ridiculous! I just don't think they know who I am. I'm not necessarily out of my shell yet. They really don't know who I am. I'm afraid that one of these Monday's or Friday's, I'm going to snap. I don't want to snap. It's not going to be pretty.

I'm done. No more whining. Just a warning. I going to keep a close eye on who deserves my revenge. I think I know who it is but I'm reserving my final decision for later.

Carpool Tuesday!

E came out and into the car with an Ace bandage wrapped around his knee.

Me: What happened to your knee buddy?

E: I think I've been sitting on it wrong.

Me: What the hell are you sitting on your knees for?

M2: I sit on my knees all the time.

Me: You're not supposed to sit on your knees. Your butt is too big for those little bitty knees to handle your butt sitting on them.

M2: I beg your pardon! My butt is not too big!

Me: Oh, maybe that's just me.

E: Well, I did something to it because my knee hurts.

M (daughter): My knees hurt when I walk on em.

Me: What are you walking on your knees for? Trying out for the part of midget in the school play?

E: Um, I think she means when she's walking on her feet, her knees hurt.

Me: Oh, I'm tired this morning. I pictured her walking literally on her knees.

M (daughter): That's what I meant.

E: Oh, well yah, I forgot, you were obviously a special needs kid.

M (daughter): No, I just felt sorry for you because next to me...you look like a midget. Grow much?

Me: Wow! I am somewhat shocked at your rudeness but feel compelled to offer you a high five on that one M!

E: Don't encourage her Miss Jean.

Happy Tuesday people! Oh and even though he'll never read it, thank you husband for listening to me whine and rant about my qualms at work. It was appreciated more than you'll ever know.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


Married to a Cop 101.

I know some wives that are the wives of cops would disagree but in my life....there are certain rules to follow and certain rules to break.

I didn't marry a cop. I married a Marine. If I had married a cop, I wouldn't be allowed to break any of these rules. Women that marry cops should know what they are getting into.

Being a cop means you are two different types of people. The cop isn't trusting. He/She thinks everybody is out to get him/her. He/She think everybody is breaking the law. The regular guy/girl is the complete opposite of all of that. Changing from one to the other can be difficult but most people do it.

My husband? Doesn't.

Being me, it's hard not to be social and trusting of strangers. Being me, married to a cop, it's extremely difficult to keep friendships and banter with those strangers. Bottom line people? My husband is a real asshole if you don't know him. If you know him, he's a great guy. It's the old adage teenage girls used to say to their parents, "He's a different person when we're alone." Yah, when I was a teenager, that was always a red flag. As an adult, it's my life.

I've mentioned the look on my husband's face could make babies cry for their life. Seriously, I'm not kidding he's a real asshole. If attempting to have a conversation with him, he's been known to give one word answers, prompting the attempter to walk away grumbling, "That guy's an asshole." Yep, and I think he's proud of it too. Me? Not so much. Which is hypocritical because I'm proud of my bitchiness.

Rule #1) I am Switzerland. I am not going to take a side if you hate my husband or if my husband hates you. Granted, my husband probably hates you because...em...um....you looked at him wrong. Yah, he's an asshole. I'm Switzerland....or Canada!

Rule #2) Don't think that if you and I have joked around that you are automatically allowed to joke around with my husband. My husband doesn't joke around unless he knows you.

Rule #3) If I'm standing by my husband and you come over to talk to me....don't expect my husband to join in on the conversation. Oh and please don't try to include him in on the conversation either. Trust me, you ain't gonna crack a smile and when you walk away....he's gonna talk shit about you. Trust me....he's an asshole.

Rule #4) If you and I are friends, don't even think about talking shit to me about my husband. He may be an asshole but he's my asshole. And furthermore, I'm a bit of bitch so I won't hesitate to defend my husband (who's an asshole) to the death.

Rule #5) If you piss my husband off, I may be Switzerland but do you understand that I'm probably being forced to listen to him bitch and moan about you? Do you think I enjoy listening to my husband huff and puff about the "nerd" or "dumbass" that disrespected him? Um....no. But 9 times out of 10, I'm being forced to listen to him and you are probably going to lose. The less I have to hear my husband act like an asshole....the better you stay in MY good graces. Watch yourself!

Finally, in closing, all of this goes down the toilet if he chooses to include me in this assholic movement. Whenever my husband get a little too big for his britches and thinks he can be an asshole to me....I've got this little pin that I use to pop that ego. I won't tell you what I say or do to do the popping but it's worked every time. I have been with this man for over 20 years. It's a perfection of mine and there really should be only one asshole/bitch in the house at one time. I always win. The real question is though, I think he just allows me to win most of the time. He is the man of the house and is quite possibly the smarter of the two. The way he thinks is almost genius so when I say that I always win....he's really the winner in the end.

I hate that! He's mine though and I'm his....you can just call it what it is. Perfection at its finest.

Happy Monday people! Watch your asses if you're on the road in Texas. My husband is pissed today and he ain't gonna take it out on me! :)

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


Let's redo today's blog...shall we?

Here's me! I'm by myself with a pharmacist until 1:30pm. Not bad. I can handle it. When the other techs come in...that's when the debauchery starts.

Old man walks up...everybody knows him but me. Wants to know if he has a prescription. I check. Nope! He winces and asks if I can fax the doctor and ask for it. He says it's a trial pack. Okay? Trial of what?

He changes the subject and asks if I can tell him where the Swiffer sweepers are. Okay? Um....not really sure but I offer to help him find it.

His eyes light up and he says, "Well, that'll be the highlight of my day darlin'! Come on and show me!"

I walk the aisles and find it after he asks, "Do you know what a Swiffer Sweeper is?"

I say, "I'm a girl....of course I know what a Swiffer is. I clean...on occasion."

He replies, "Oh I can see you're a girl. A pretty girl at that!"

I do a little wiggle and a giggle and point him in the right direction. As I'm showing him the difference between a dry sweeper and a wet sweeper (dirty thought) I slip in the question.

"Um....what's a trial pack and what pray tell am I asking the doctor for?"

His reply? Come one guys.....can you take a guess?


Oh good golly molly....is it time to go home yet?

Yep, that's my life. It was only a matter of time and I knew it was coming. (dirty thought) The old man looking for a prescription for Cialis and the aisle the Swiffer Sweepers and sponges were.

I. Love. My. Life.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.

I'm not this important.

I've got work today. It's one of those days where you wake up in the morning and feel something ominous in the air. Ominous not being morbid. Ominous being something pivotal that can possibly blow my world apart.

My world consists of me, my husband and my kids right now. I've got way too much stuff going on to add any more people to my world. I can barely save myself these days much less anybody else other that the people in my world. Now don't get me wrong, if you're my friend, I'll listen and I'll try to help as best I can. However, let me deal with my own stuff first.

Does this make me selfish?

I would say yes if I was only focused on me but truly, I'm not. These three other people in my life are as equally important to me and I will fight to the death to protect them from heartbreak, sadness or world obliteration.

Yah, weird blog post today but remember what the blog explanation says. "Anything I wake up thinking...." And yah, I woke up to a mess of world obliteration this morning and I don't have the time or the stamina to deal with it.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


Ah, Young Grasshoper....Go Forth and Annoy!

A lot of people that knew me when I was younger always say the same thing. "I never knew you were this funny when we were in high school." Well, let me just say, I was. I've been perfecting my comedy act since I was a six years old and my dad used to say, "You're not funny Jeanie!"

Funny thing is, my dad still doesn't think I'm funny. As I've mentioned before, karma has bit me in the butt with my youngest daughter, K. She resembles me with her dimples and her comedic wit matches me smart ass comment to the next. The sad thing is, her dad doesn't think she's funny either. I have to admit, sometimes her wit is just plain rude. Sometimes. (My dad is loving this right now by the way.)

The thing with K though is she's so dang cute that she can melt your heart with her smile and pig snort with her comebacks. I grade most of my laughs on how they come out. A pig snort means you've surprised me and oops, pig snort. :)

While in the car the other day after the infamous soccer game of sprained ankles, the girls were asking their dad why he hasn't scored a goal yet. My husband played soccer in high school. I never saw him play. I never went to his games. I didn't know him then. His "good ol' soccer days" are a mystery to me and don't make me swoon. My eyes glaze over whenever he talks about his soccer days. Here is why my daughter K is me and why my husband has morphed into my dad.

Husband: Even when I played before, I never scored then either. They didn't count assists but I was really good at dribbling down the field and passing it to the scorer.

K: What position was that?

Husband: I was midfield. I ran anywhere I wanted and did everything.

K: Aren't I midfield?

Husband: Yep, you're center midfield.

K: Um.....I score. What was your excuse? Looks like the master has suddenly become the cockroach.

Me: I think you mean grasshopper.

Husband: I think she meant she's in need of an ass beating.

K: Yes on the grasshopper, No on the bootie beating.

Now you see, I thought that was genius. One, she's so damn cute and misspoke the grasshopper line. Two, she completely obliterated her daddy's "good ol' soccer days" with her own accomplishments.

Her dad on the other hand had no comeback other than to threaten a beat down.

In my opinion? Freaking score for K!

It truly is the passing of the torch. My young padiwan has become the master. God help you all......there are two of us!

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


I'm allergic to Texas.

I've been waiting for four months for the weather to finally cooperate and allow my tube tops out of the drawer. With my good must give me some bad though. Like the clockwork of the Texas bugs come the Spring allergies. It seems my entire family has them. Nobody is worse than the other. We're all miserable. I like to think that me in a tube top takes away from the atrocious red nose, itchy eyes and exploding sneezes. Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

Were my allergies as bad in California? I don't think they were. At least I don't remember suffering like I do in Texas. I remember taking some Claritin but it wasn't like if I missed a dose like if I ever do in Texas I ended up wanting to cut my head off.

I've lived in Texas for over nine years and there is really no possibility of me leaving. This is my home now. I'm actually beginning to love Texas in a way. (Shhhh. Don't tell California please.) Here are some reasons that I love Texas. But with love must come hate so I'll include those too.

1 love) It snows here in Texas. It could snow like a foot and in less than two days, it'll be gone and you'd never know it snowed.

1 hate) The sun is a tricky little bastard. Because it's so flat, a sunny day can mean nothing with the wind. I've been known to freeze my ass off on a soccer field wearing a tube top and shivering with the winds.

2 love) The seasons are beautiful like they're supposed to be.

2 hate) The months in Spring have there own bugs. My least favorite are the May Flies which look like GIANT mosquitoes and the June bugs which are like GIANT brown flying beetles. The May Flies are just annoying but the June bugs attack you! I'm convinced they're retarded because they'll land on anything or dive bomb you. And when they do land on skin....they burrow into your skin. I hate those fvckers! I like to crush em and leave their carcasses in a pile for the birds in the morning. It's my gift to Spring! :)

3 love) Texas is known and loved for it's shopping and food.

3 hate) All true Texans know how to do is shop and eat. There are certain towns that think they're so much better than other towns. They're snooty Texans and sometimes I have to pinch myself from throttling them and screaming, "I'm from California dammit! You ain't got nothing on me!"

4 love) The houses are freaking awesome. Our house was $130,000 and would probably be about $350,000 in California.

4 hate) The prospect of selling our house is moot because they keep building more houses here. It's never ending with the building of houses here. Not that I wanna move but an investment of a "starter home" to my husband has gone down the toilet and become our "forever home" here in McKinney, Texas. (This would be a husband hate.)

5 love) My friends are from all walks of life. I have older friends and younger friends and I wouldn't trade them for a million dollars. I mean seriously, where can you hang out with a true Mississippian at a bar and the next day eat some BBQ with a true Texan? Nowhere I tell ya!

5 hate) I haven't yet developed a love for cowboys. You know the ones? The cowboy hats, the boots. Nope, I still think that looks ridiculous. Wranglers which in California would put you in a group you could never get out of is perfectly fine here. As a Cali-girl, I still can't see a pair of Wranglers and think, "What a nerd!"

6 love) The Texas twang. Oh yah people, I've got it! It's not slap your face twang but it comes out. I say y'all and the Spanish language, whenever it's attempted with my tongue is a sort of Spanglish twang. It's adorable. Oh and good god, you get me to spend more than four hours with my Mississippian friend? Oh I do Mississippi good too.

6 hate) My husband is constantly making fun of me when my Texas twang shows. I've discovered it's because he can't do it. Anytime he attempts to say y'all, it comes out, "yah-allllll!" And if you haven't figured my husband out by now, when he can't do something, he makes fun of the people that can.

7 love) And finally, Texas just feels like home to me. It's far away from anybody that knows or remembers me. I in a sense, recreated myself here. I'm still the same girl I've always been but here in Texas, I don't have old skeletons pointing their fingers at me.

7 hate) I'm not from here. I sometimes miss my old skeletons. I miss the people that remember me. I miss the places that I knew secrets about. I went "home" in December and for the first time in a long time, it was good to be "home." Trips "home" are scarce because the economy sucks but "home" isn't Texas at times when I need to embrace the piece of myself that isn't in Texas.

So there you have it. Texas and Jeanie. We are like a married couple. We have a love/hate relationship. I would never trade it but I wouldn't mind a trial separation from time to time.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


Happy 50th Post Day!

Most people do something special for Blog Anniversaries or momentous numeral posts but not me! I'm just gonna ramble again. I don't have any prizes to give away or enough followers to have a, "Ask me anything," post. Besides, I cringe to think what anybody would ask me. I've never had any secrets or have hidden my thoughts so an, "Ask me anything," post would probably be a waste.

Yesterday was as expected. Busy, busy and busy. I survived though. My boss "Dennis" proceeded to whine how busy it was and then did absolutely nothing. Surprising to him, a relief pharmacist walked in and she ended up doing everything. I've never wanted to french kiss a girl more than I wanted to french kiss the pharmacist that walked in yesterday and actually began to work.

When I got home, I grabbed a beer and sat outside until my husband came home and took us to his "last" soccer game. It was a late game but seeing as it was his "last" game, I didn't want to deprive the girls of seeing their daddy play. It was going to be a rough game as they were playing the 2nd place team.

I in my tube top, the girls with their money to buy crap at the snack bar, we all sat back comfortably on the bleachers to watch the COPS play DIDN'T KNOW THEY WERE PLAYING COPS.

From the whistle to the first 30 seconds of the game was about as exciting as a root canal until my husband went down like a sack of potatoes grabbing his leg.

What did I do as a supportive and loving wife?

I asked K to hand me her popcorn and go find out if her daddy was okay.

Should I have jumped up and ran in slow motion onto the field? Um......no. My husband is a proud man.

So as his fellow teammates tried to carry him off the field, I could see him grit his teeth and tell them to put him down. Proud, I tell ya! Limping into the box, K leaned into the doorway and ask, "Daddy? Are you okay?"

Her dad shook his head and continued to grit his teeth. My older daughter M leaned in and said, "What happened?"

Her dad continued to ignore them and just grimace while taking his stuff off. IE. cleats, shin guard, socks.

It was then that I watched my K reach up into the bleachers, grab a handful of popcorn and chuck it at him. She got daddy's attention with that and when he finally looked over, K yelled, "Quit being a wimp and get back out there!"

Ah, karma. It's a funny thing. How many times has he said that same thing to her? Probably about ten times.

Did daddy quit being a wimp? Of course he did. He went right back out there and stopped being a wimp. It wasn't until after the game when I saw his ankle. It had blown up the size of a knee and was already a pretty shade of purple.

For the rest of the night he allowed me to medicate him, wrap an ice pack around his ankle and elevate it.

I'm married to Forrest Gimp.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.



Oh yes people....it's Monday again. Wanna hear what I'm in for today? Well, lemme tell ya.

The pharmacy was closed on Easter Sunday. What does that mean? Well, today, I will be walking into a computer full of Sunday's refills and auto-fills and Monday's refills and auto-fills. The numbers will probably be maxed out by 9:01am.

Oh and lookie thur! I'll be by myself for 4+ hours this morning....with the "Pop Quiz Asshole" guy.

Will I survive? Well sure I will but that won't mean "Dennis Hopper" will. The other day, I worked for four hours with the other pharmacist and when "Dennis Hopper" walked in, he proceeded to "train" me on how to "bag stage."

Bag stage? It's when you get the bag ready with all the pertinent documents inside and stickers on the outside.

Seriously, "Dennis?" I've been here for four hours....what the hell do you think I've been doing this entire time? Nevermind, don't answer that....it'll turn into a pop quiz.

My old boss, we'll call him "Spaz" used to walk in and stay as far away from me as possible. The one time he did get near me, I almost shoved a pencil up his nose. I think my exact words were, "Stop finger-fvcking with my stuff!"

My new boss, "Dennis" is the epitomy of finger-fvcking with your stuff. He'll slide by you and say, "What's this and why isn't it prioritized?"

He's done this twice to me and granted, the one time, it really needed to be prioritized but the second time, I just got it and hadn't had time to prioritize. My answer to "Dennis?"

"I haven't prioritized it yet because it isn't a priority yet."

That took him a moment but then he countered with, "Well, it's easy to prioritize. Just make sure you keep this area clean."

My area???? Well, I never! My area(s) are always clean and....nevermind.

My only saving grace? I'm not the only one who finds this annoying. I'm not the only one who gets the joke when he starts on a tirade and I give him the, "You're kidding right?" look.

But seriously, think of me today. I have no idea what today holds but I swear, if you hear about an impalement by pencil up someones nose on the news....in my defense....he was probably finger-fvcking with my stuff.

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


Friday Fruckus of Fruck!

Gotta work today. Gonna keep this short with a Carpool convo. Have great weekend people and enjoy your Peeps and chocolate bunnies!

M (daughter): Are you still grounded E?

E: Nope, yesterday was my last day. I'm free!

Me: What did you get grounded for?

E: I was playing with an air gun down the street.

Me: Who's air gun was it?

E: Not mine. You know those boys around the corner? It was one of those.

Me: And you got grounded. That's kind of bogus.

E: My dad went on the Internet and found out they were illegal. Then he grounded me.

Me: Did you know it was illegal?

E: Nope. I just figured since it belonged to one of the boys it was fine. Stoooopid Internet screwed me over again.

Me: This is why church-goers are ridiculous!

E: Why? Because they find sin by surfing the Internet?

Me: No, because they think God IS the Internet.

E: I'm surprised they don't have a website like Ask.com and name it God.com.

Me: Patent that shit E. That is G-E-N-I-U-S!

E: Imagine the possibilities of sins being forgiven and found out. So you're telling me you wouldn't have grounded M (daughter)?

Me: M (daughter)? Nope! Now K (other daughter) I probably would. But not because it was illegal but because she either shot somebodies eye out or broke something.

E: You are the coolest mom ever!

M (daughter): That's debatable at least one week a month but the other weeks she's definitely the best mom ever.

Me: Awwwww, thanks M (daughter).

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.


Monkeys, Emu's....and Tube Tops? Oh my!

Sorry this is a little late in the day but I had a 2nd grade field trip today and there was no time to write. I'm back though and boy, do I need a hysterectomy STAT! Kids are priceless....which to me means you wouldn't pay a penny for em if you didn't give birth to them. Shoot, I would probably bargain a 2 for 1 on my own two kids come to think of it. Anyway, field trip was good. We went to the zoo so we had about 3 hours to cover an area that takes about 8 hours to see everything.

First order of business? Bathroom. Second order of business? Lunch. Yes, it was only 10:30am but I wasn't going to carry around those sack lunches for 2 hours. Yah, I'm that kind of mom.

We set out on our way after about 45 minutes of slow eating. Jeez, my kids inhale their food. The two kids I was in charge of decided to slowly chew their food.

Hello? We've got a zoo to wander around!

As we walked around the zoo, some conversations began that set up for some confusion at who these kids were.

"I smell animal poop!"

Um....ya think? God didn't forget to give these kids brains thank goodness.

"Uh-ah-ah-eh-uh! I can speak monkey!"

Really? Well how do you say, "Move your ass kid because you walk like a turtle on crutches!"

"Can we feed the animals without getting slobber on us?"

Well jeez kid, I don't know. Can you manage to eat your applesauce without dropping it on your lap? No? Well it's probably a good guess an animal won't be careful either.

"I want to buy a bug with my credits. I want this wasp."

Um....K? Do you think you can possibly purchase another disgusting insect that doesn't make me cower in fear like an epileptic on crack? Yes? Thanks. You're the best!

"My shorts are dripping and making my shoes wet."

Well Einstein, when I said to not get your clothes wet...did ya think I meant that other person's clothes? Deal with it....your feet probably need cleaning anyway stinky!

Yep, it was a freaking super fantastic day with 2nd graders today and I lived to tell the tale.

One last thing though. It is the 3rd day of sunshine. It is also the 3rd day of me wearing a tube top. I'm getting quite the tan on my chest and shoulders. Oh yes people, Jeanie is back and she's coming back with a tan. My last thing isn't about my tan though. It's about my tube tops. Mom's hate me. They never really say anything. They say it with their eyes. They loathe me.

I'd like to take this moment to say, "Hey tube top hating moms, bite me. You can't wear tube tops? I'm so sorry about that but don't glare at me with your jealous eyes because of your downfall. Seriously, bite me. And while you're biting me....kiss my ass too. I don't think I'm better than you. I don't wear a tube top so your husband can drool over me. I like tube tops. They are my bread and butter. You don't like it....again.....bite me and kiss my ass."

If I've offended you or expressed anything you don't agree with, don't worry, I'll probably do it again.