If your teenaged son is driving you crazy

… and you have let him turn you into a complete lunatic, don’t call me at the crack of dawn and then show up at my door or you’ll end up in my blog you foolish person you.

Here’s the deal… I don’t know why, but my kids have a few friends whose parents are severely lacking in the area of parenting skills. I know when you have a kid you don’t get a manual, and Dr. Spock is no longer cutting edge, but there is such a thing called “common sense”. And common sense dictates that I should not know where these kids are if their parents don‘t even have a clue.

Common sense also dictates that if your kid is regularly sleeping places without checking with you first, maybe you should try doing something about it so it doesn’t always become everyone else’s problem?

So I wake up way too early this morning when this woman, who has no control whatsoever over her one and only child, calls me up and I can hear her panicked voice being recorded on my answering machine. Great. I need my sleep so I ignore it, and in a few seconds I’m back in dreamland just chillin‘ and hanging out with some great people. I don’t know how much time passes, but I’m in the middle of a nice dream and the next thing I know I slightly awaken to what sounds like a big man trying to beat down my door. I was still half asleep when I opened the door.

It’s not Jesse Ventura, it’s a Miss Fug who thinks it‘s kosher to wake me up just because I‘m usually a patient person. I hate it when people assume I’ll take their shit more than a few times without doing something about it. So it’s a good thing she caught me in my foggy state, because after the fog I’ll turn into a really cranky bitch if you are on a mission to get me riled up first thing in the morning.

Anyway, I’m standing there for a sec trying to process why she is here and she starts to question me.
“Is **** here?”

Okay, thanks for waking me up before my alarm went off. You should’ve had a clue when I didn’t answer or return your call, now I’m going to give you some morning breath right in your face. You like that?

“No, **** is not here.”
Now go away and come back when you get some manners. No, don’t ask me any more questions, just go!

“Do you know where he is? He has an appointment this morning… (blah-blah-blah-I-talk-way-too-fast-for-anyone-to-understand-me-because-I’m-insane).”

That’s when I remembered, for some odd reason, that one of my sons just happened to offhandedly mention last evening where her son was going to be spending the night. And it wasn’t at her son’s pregnant girlfriend’s house like she would prefer.

So I spit out the kid’s name in one word. I’m not even talking in complete sentences at this point, I just want to her to leave. And by her reaction you’d think I had just uttered the word Satan.

At least she left in a hurry.