I'm just a sucker

I’m usually pretty good at running a tight ship around here. That’s what I tell myself. I’m thinking if I hear it enough times, eventually it will come true.

Rewind to April. One of my brother-in-laws wanted me to take a dog off of his household’s hands. I agreed without knowing anything about Monty (the dog). I visited the family in June and learned my sister had a change of heart and they were keeping him. That was good since the vehicle I had to borrow for the 1,000 mile trip didn’t have room to accommodate him. So I got out of the “adopting Monty” situation unscathed. I didn’t come home with an unruly dog even though I really wanted to (my optimistic outlook has got me into trouble many times over). After I’d originally agreed, I began to hear negative things about the dog from people who were “in the know” so I’m thinking I would’ve regretted it in the end.

Well, now I have an entirely new slightly relative situation on my hands.

The friend who loaned me her SUV (I’ll call her Marci) has a daughter the same age as my youngest and they play together. That’s great, and I truly mean that. In fact, they took my daughter camping recently and she had a blast. Well, a few months ago Marci told me her Golden Retriever was pregnant. I was happy for her as she was pretty excited about it. The male dog I think is a Blue Australian Shepherd and has blue eyes. Both dogs are gorgeous. So the pups were bound to be good looking. Well, my daughter has spent a lot of time at their place in the past month since it’s summer and Marci’s daughter doesn’t have any siblings close to her own age. So the two girls have been just like sisters. And throughout all of this my daughter has been watching a very pregnant dog, and having this crazy recurring dream about bringing home a puppy.

Well, I also had childhood dreams…




Tekno the Robotic Puppy doesn’t chew up shoes or pee on them. And if he dies unexpectedly you know a tear-filled backyard burial won’t be in order. This kind of awesomeness wasn’t even in the price range of “maybe” when I was a kid, so what am I waiting for??

And another thing… my childhood dreams always got squashed. What’s with kids nowadays? How do they manipulate some of us into thinking their dreams are more important than ours were?

Anywho, the drama over the puppies “coming soon” had been building for quite some time. Then one morning not too long ago, we got the call. Goldie was in labor. Oh my god, my daughter was so excited. Her friend was so excited. Marci was so excited. I was feeling like I was pretty happy with the dog we already have. She is a Red Heeler/German Shepherd mix and a great family pet. But of course I was happy for everyone and their “feelings” so I joined in on the excitement.

That evening I got another call. Goldie was in labor too long and needed a C-section. Marci’s daughter spent the night at our house and Marci took the dog to the Vet. The next day I called and found out Goldie and her lover were much more than fertile. She had been carrying a whopping 13 pups; they all made it and were healthy. Thirteen puppies! Holy crap! She was baffled. How did that happen? No one knows for sure, but since half of them are black I don’t think one can rule out the possibility that Goldie was sneaking around, and maybe had a little jungle love on the side. I don’t think a dog can be called a whore for sleeping around, but, what an animal.

Somehow I was talked into seeing the puppies. More like “ganged up on” in a way. I don’t like it when a group of females get together. I wouldn’t recommend it. I was basically mobbed - emotionally - which is the worst kind of attack. Totally unfair. Then my one son who really loves dogs found out about the puppies. That was the straw that kicked the camel in the crotch (and he’s going down in our family history for that one, like it or not). He pulled me over to Marci’s and begged me. He picked out his favorite. I kind of melted when I met the little thing. His eyes weren’t open yet and he just laid in Marci’s hand like a… well, almost like a very realistic robotic toy.

So I guess you know what happens next. I still have a little time before the pup is off his mom’s teats, nips, or whatever you call them. But he doesn’t have a name yet. I’m open to suggestions. “Trucker” rhymes with sucker, so I might just go with that…

Yes, I am kidding (about the name Trucker).

No more baggage

I’m revealing my hatred for all baggage.

Baggage = Ass






I used to think one of society’s worst problems was crystal meth. But now I know the truth… it’s crack.

How come most jeans are still baggy in one way or another? I was ready for the fad to end right about the time it started. Sometimes I have to break down and wear a belt (grr) to keep the suckers up on my waist where they belong. If I downsize the jeans so they fit my waist or legs, surprise! Camel toe is not cool, and I wouldn’t be caught dead in it… unless the funeral director is a total moron.

Let me explain why I’m such a horrible shopper. The story behind the baggy story.

• I like to go in, grab something in my size, and get right out of that trap baby. It’s really simple, shopping = broke. The longer I’m in there the less money I have to piss away on gasoline, and steak. I can always bank on spending at least $100 an hour if I‘m not playing offense.

• They fail to put warning labels on women’s jeans. If they’re relaxed fit, they should be clearly marked “belt required”. If they’re going to ride low they should say “crack alert”. If they have extra long pant legs they should be pre-rolled and sewn up into place so I can bypass them altogether. I’m not gonna look like a milk maid.

• It always looks good hanging on the rack. It never fails; I just can’t trust my own eyes. I’m playing the odds every time, and they‘re usually against me because I‘m always in a hurry.

• I don’t like to try on clothes at the store, it eats up precious time. Yes, I value my time more than I should. I’m a single working mom, go fig. And I hate changing rooms. Not because there is always a woman sporting a mullet and a creepy smile guarding the entrance. Well...

• I usually have kids with me. All kids have a breaking point after spending time in any store. This differs depending on the store, the child, and how much authority you actually have over the child. I prefer to avoid reaching that point when they start getting bored, restless, hungry, tired, whiny, and covetous. Because I have a fear that if I’m in the store too long with the kids I might hear something like, “Mom, little sister is crazy-out-of-control on a bike and people are running and calling security.”

Or, “Sorry Mom, I guess you’ll have to pay for these Doritos, Cheetos, BBQ Lay’s and Skittles now. We‘re still going to the steakhouse, right?”

Or, “Mom, we found little sis passed out in a chair covered in Cheeto dust. Oh, the chair is orange too, and that lady over there who says she’s the manager wants to talk to you.”

• When I buy crap, I keep it. If it doesn’t fit right, too bad. I can always find some one or some thrift shop who will take it. I’m not gonna go back to the store and do an exchange. Then I‘d have to go into the changing room, as hypocritical as it sounds. After going through the trouble of exchanging it, I’d have to make sure I‘m getting something that won‘t slide down and show my business. And I can’t help it if I have an irrational fear of “mullet woman”.

• I like online shopping. Basically, it’s to avoid everything mentioned above. And…I always get a warm and fuzzy feeling whenever I get a package, like some one just sent me a present. By the time my orders arrive I‘ve already forgotten about them, so it‘s like Christmas year round. Since I never get anything for Christmas it just makes it that much more special.

I don’t mind being the one to sass the ass crack. I’d love it if jean makers could go back to the way it was. By the way, are they still making plus sizes while they‘re producing all of these huge-waisted jeans? Why?

Baggage = Weight

The kiddies and I like to take trips. But when it’s time to load up the bags I always end up doing a double take. I wonder why our bags outnumber us by 4-1. So I end up wasting precious driving time going through each and every bag, making sure the kids aren’t trying to sneak their friends along. Who wants to be accused of being part of a child-smuggling ring?

And after all is said and done, I reach the conclusion that no one got overzealous with the packing, and we DO need all that baggage, and I just have like… too many kids. Then I make them load up the bags…

Baggage = History

Every man and woman who has ever been in a serious relationship that came to an end has some baggage. But you can lose it in order to move on. Just take it to your nearest airport.

How do you feel about baggage?