So you think you're an adult now

What the hell happened? My dog has turned into a total retard. And it only took about a week under the care of a lazy teenager.

When we went on vacation we were packed like sardines into my friend’s SUV. Basically we gave up a whole row of seating, so when I was loading our baggage it got kind of interesting. Like Regina’s son in Minnesota pointed out, it was just like a real life game of Tetris. God, I miss that game. No wonder I had so much fun loading up the luggage. Anyway, back before we left Montana it took me a couple of hours to pack it all in there just right, but in all fairness one of my neighbors stopped to converse during the game. This was the first time we actually said more than just “Hello” to each other, so I think we ended up talking a good hour until it started getting creepy and I learned he was a Kentucky-bred racist and not the innocent peace-loving Veteran I had once thought. The kids came along then and started pestering me. I’ve never been so happy to see them. They probably thought it was really weird to get smiles from me when they so rudely interrupted. What I’m doing here is dragging out the fact that since we barely had room for ourselves, we definitely didn’t have any room for a canine on board. This didn’t become an issue with adopting my sister’s dog though, because she and her husband did a 180 and decided to keep their beloved pet… some time between April and Jessica‘s birthday party.

Back to my pet - I had to hire the most responsible person I knew who was willing to dog sit (and house sit) for cheap. Enter a kid who is always desperate to get away from his place. He has been a friend of the family since he was 10. Now he’s 18 and thinks he’s an adult. I felt he was the best choice under the circumstances. I honestly don’t know anyone else I could trust 100% not to throw parties or drink my beer while we were away. But I knew there was a downside to hiring him. He thinks he can get by in life doing as little as possible. He is nearly always sitting around with his laptop, and gets less sun than a mushroom. He has no desire to go to college. In fact, I think his only plan is to do nothing and mooch off his parents the rest of his life. So… he has until the fall to get a job and pay his parents rent or he’ll be kicked out of the house. When he does ever decide to get a job he wants to live with us and pay me rent in order to escape his family drama. Well, he says his mom wants to take so much of his money he’ll be trapped at home forever. But when we came back from our vacation I soon could see where his parents were coming from...

When we walked into the house the first thing we noticed was an awful smell. Very pungent. I wanted to puke. It turned out it wasn’t him, but dog urine. Apparently there was a day when he was gone too long and didn’t get back in time. So what did he do?! Well, he obviously didn’t clean it up.

Strike one.

In the kitchen I found dirty dishes piled up in and around the sink. Every cup and bowl, all of my pots, and a pile of silverware. You’d think he would have the decency to wash his own dirty dishes?! But again, he chose to leave the work for me.

Strike two.

My dog was so happy to see us. But after the first 24 hours I realized something about her wasn’t right. She looked… so… dumb. She looks incredibly stupid all of the time now. I don’t know what I can do, but just hope that it wears off. And not only does she look like a few pancakes short of a stack, but she is acting like it too. Nearly every time I call her to go outside she just sits there and stares at me, grinning and refusing to move. She’ll slowly come over when it’s potty time but I have to practically push her out the door. All she wants to do is lay around. She used to love being outside, and went out every chance she got. Now she is just like the dog sitter she had looking after her for a week.

Strike three.

Good luck, kid. You’re going to need it. If I were you I’d start by doing everything your parents say. Maybe then, they won’t charge you so much rent.

I stole an SUV and drove 1000 miles

Then I drove all over the Twin Cities for a week, then another 1000 miles to get home when I had just become comfortable with… well, when I had become used to navigating around so many crazy drivers. It’s something I have to relearn every time I visit. As Mom says, living out here has spoiled me.

*Warning: This post will waste approximately ten minutes of your time, and that’s without leaving a comment.

I had been secretly planning this trip for months. Okay, the only secret about it was when we would arrive, which was just in time to surprise my sister Jessica for her birthday. There was a 50/50 chance she’d actually read my blog so I couldn’t say exactly when I was leaving. Well, maybe a 5% chance but I didn’t want to risk it.

Her birthday was Saturday June 21st so I planned to leave on Thursday the 19th, drive all night, and get to the Twin Cities on the 20th. Then we would show up at my sister Melissa’s house for the party on the 21st and surprise the birthday girl in person. It was a solid plan and absolutely nothing could go wrong…

Problem 1: The Bratmobile. The week of our planned escapade my vehicle started giving me shit. Well, the engine caught on fire after it had already been to the auto repair shop. When I took it in the first time I specifically told them I smelled gas under the hood. They thought I was just smelling the exhaust because they’re mechanics and trained to pretend to listen. So I dumped $350 into it, just for them to tell me there was no gas leak.

*The good news: I got my Suburban back and they did their job. You can’t tell the engine was aflame. And they found the gas leak. It was in a spot that was hidden pretty well, so I’m not upset or anything (until I get the bill). The bad news: I will eventually get the bill.

Back to problem 1… After the Suburban caught on fire they took it back, but they were too “busy” to work on it that week - the week I was planning to leave. Monday they said they’d look at it on Tuesday. Tuesday they said there was a lot of wire damage and they’d get to it on Wednesday. Wednesday they ordered parts, so it was too late to push it down the road to their competitors. Thursday they said they’d work on it Friday. I had to leave Thursday night! so I called up a friend Wednesday and asked if I could rent an SUV from her. I was seriously not expecting her to say, “Sure!” but surprisingly, she was willing to loan it out for 9 days. She only asked for $100. I gave her $200 and still felt like I should be incarcerated for grand theft auto. I was certain she’d have a change of heart and I’d get pulled over somewhere on I-94. I know I could defend myself in prison but it would really hurt to know the kids were in their father’s custody. I’m just grateful my friend was so desperate for my money.

*I returned her SUV with a half a tank of gas and had received it on “E”, so that makes me feel a little better.

Problem 1 solved...

Problem 2: Getting there alive. Up to this point I’d never driven overnight anywhere. There were times I’d tried it and ended up checking into a motel along the way. I just couldn’t do it. But this time I was determined and the pressure was on. If I didn’t pull this off I’d have no time to rest before Jessica’s party and all this planning would have been in vain.

We left Billings at 8:30 pm, and I estimated we’d be in the Twin Cities by noon Friday since the kids would be sleeping during most of our journey. It was fool-proof.

We made three pee stops before we even got out of Montana. Well, one was a gas stop and I bought a bunch of food thinking it would help knock the kids out. My teenaged sons stayed awake most of the trip so that didn’t work out too well. We spent the next few hours in North Dakota fighting over music choices. Mine were right, and they refused to acknowledge that. Eventually I was so steamed I was ready to drop them off at the next rest stop and let them hitch a ride back home. That would make my vacation cheaper and they could listen to whatever crap they wanted (if they made it back). That would sure “man” them up in a hurry. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but ultimately I ended up lecturing them on how I never argued with my dad over music in a moving vehicle. I lovingly told them, “He was paying for the gas and he was driving, so he controlled the tunes. And I respected that! I’m trying to drive here at 75 miles per hour, in the dark, in a flipping SUV that isn’t even ours… And you guys want to argue with me?! So everyone better be quiet, starting right now, unless you want us all to end up in a fiery crash. You can’t hear music when you’re dead.”

They not only shut up, but one of them even apologized.

At around 4 am the trees off in the distance started to look like evil creatures doing some sort of sacrificial dance, so I pulled into a rest stop and took a nap. The sun woke me up an hour later and we were off again. Then at some point, maybe 7 am-ish I couldn’t keep my eyes open and had to pull over again. The boys went off to explore in the trees nearby, ignoring my warning that they were bad trees, and woke me up 45 minutes later. Then the girls woke up and needed to pee every few hours.

We finally made it to our destination at 2:30 pm, but we lost an hour due to that stupid time zone change. I’ve never been so ecstatic to climb into bed. Well, not since the last time I got laid. And I slept like I’d just had an hour of sex and four orgasms, which means I slept pretty damn good.

And we all were very much alive.

Problem 2 solved…

Problem 3: The surprise. While my sister Melissa and I were planning this party with a large family attendance for Jessica, her best friend was also planning a party with a bunch of friends for her. Luckily it was scheduled for the night of Friday the 20th so it wouldn’t interfere with our party the next day. Well, I hoped it wouldn’t. It was a party which would include alcohol so Melissa worried about Jessica being hung over and not making it over to her house for the family party and her surprise (me). So in trying to coordinate all of this, Melissa’s husband later told me that she had spilled everything to Jessica’s bff. I would not have approved of this move. Just wanted to mention that. So, Jessica’s bff got drunk at her party and made the mistake of telling her she had a secret. That was all it took. Jessica then proceeded to beat it out of her. So, before the night was over she found out I was coming to surprise her and was so moved she literally sobbed like Tammy Faye...

Whatever her last name is. Was. Anyhow, this was the first time I ever made my sister cry without pain involved.

I knew all along Melissa would eventually tell some one who couldn’t keep a secret, but my guess was way off the mark. I had assumed she’d tell our mother. Apparently my repeatedly telling Melissa not to tell her paid off. Mom was very surprised.

At least some one was. I guess that counts.

Problem 3 solved…

Problem 4: Being in two places at once. The plan to surprise my sister on her birthday came about back in March when my best friend of 22 years (Regina) invited us to her daughter’s graduation party, which was also on June 21st. Her party was in the evening and my sister’s party started at noon, so I had no doubt we could make it to both parties. Well, in a perfect world…

A few days before we were scheduled to leave town Melissa tells me the party will start at 1:00 instead of noon. I realized that would cut down the amount of time I could be at Jessica’s party before heading out to the graduation party, but I didn’t foresee any problem with that. The evening party would be from 5:30 till 10 pm so that gave us plenty of time. Besides, Jessica’s party was being held at Melissa’s house, so who was I to argue? I was only traveling 1000 miles after all, and had to nearly be in two places at once. But I kept my happy face on, knowing if things didn’t work out I could always make Melissa feel guilty in the end.

It’s now Saturday, June 21st, and we are ready to party. Traffic was a bitch and a half so we got there at 1:30. It turned out Jessica was hung over after all, and hadn’t beaten us there. At this point I didn’t know she had already learned of the surprise through the grapevine a.k.a. Melissa’s mouth, so I was pretty excited and just couldn’t wait to surprise her. At 2:00 everyone was starving and tired of waiting for her, so lunch was served. At 2:30 the whining started... "When is she going to show up?"... And I’m not ashamed of that. At 3:00 her vehicle pulled in and I made the kids hide in the garage so we could jump out and surprise her. That’s when a chain of relatives passed along the phrase, “She already knows Alicia is here!”

So, word got to me before she even came within hugging range. She had asked some one if I was at Melissa’s place yet. I was… so… shocked… that she already knew…

When Jessica saw me she started to cry again. As I already mentioned, she had cried a freaking river the night before when she found out I was coming to surprise her. Then, later on I started to feel like a real bitch for wanting to get out of there to go to the graduation party. So I tried getting family members to follow us out to the party but they were all drinking and didn’t want to go anywhere. Great. So I put it off as long as possible. When I was finally ready to go, Regina told me the party would practically be over by the time I got there so I should just stay with my family and make the most of it.

Now I really felt like shit because Regina and her kin are just like family. Even better, because they aren’t blood related.

As soon as I got off the phone with her I slammed another beer. Then I drank numerous cans of Pepsi to sober up. I drove over to Regina’s house later on and we crashed there that night. I mean, we all went to sleep on her numerous sofas and whatnot. That made her feel better.

Now that problem 4 was solved in a weird and unwanted way, we were free to enjoy the rest of our vacation. We fucking did. And I gave Regina’s daughter 50 bucks for her graduation present, as well as the original baby pictures I’ve had of her for 17 years (which are the only baby pictures she now has of herself due to a bad divorce between her parents), so… she loves me.

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?

Awkward Moments: Wee Willy Winkie

The first time I ever saw a mini wiener I got an unsuspected two-fer on a family trip. During the first sighting the kid was older and didn’t even speak English. The second incident was much more intimate, and the kid was my age. This happened within a few days' time. Before you start thinking I was a little peeping pervert, hear me out. That didn’t come until about ten years later, I swear.

I was five on this occasion when my mom, dad, little sister and I hopped into the van and traveled from Minnesota to Arizona where we had lived up until the previous year. My parents had a lot of friends there and my grandparents were still together and living in Tucson. The journey itself was a lot of fun. This was back when seatbelts weren’t a requirement. So when we weren’t staring out the back windows watching other cars and making funny faces at old ladies, my sister and I were sleeping comfortably or sitting on our parents laps up front learning how to drive. Well, not really driving, but we experienced the thrill of learning how to steer a moving vehicle going 55 mph down the highway. Dad was a good teacher; and I admit it was a real power trip, knowing if I let go of the wheel we’d all surely die.

My dad loved the two-seater van and spent a lot of time pimping it out in the mid to late seventies. He insulated it, installed woofers all over the place, built and installed a bench, not to mention built a bed in the very back. We spent a lot of time in it as it was our ride and doubled as a camper. But then the new laws went into effect and the van went into permanent park mode. There wasn’t any sense maintaining it anymore. Hello station wagon! It just wasn’t the same. Safety really put a damper on things.

Many rest stops and homemade sandwiches later, we got to Tucson and went straight to Grandma & Grandpa’s. Nothing odd happened there. Well, that’s not entirely true. Someone decided since we were so close to Mexico, why not hop the border (legally) and visit my great-grandparents who didn’t speak one word of English. Cool! Little did I know just how much “cooler” it would get. So the next morning my grandma hopped into the van with us, which was kind of important since she was the only one in our little group who was bilingual. I wonder what she was saying when she’d mutter things under her breath in Spanish and look at my mother. I’ll never know for sure but I can just imagine.

We got to the shack for the very first time in our lives and couldn’t believe our eyes. It had a tin roof, wood stove, no electricity whatsoever… and an outhouse? Up until then I’d thought everyone had indoor plumbing. What insanity! Have you ever had to urinate or defecate into a hole located in what resembles a closet but is much smaller? The toilet seat is just there for show. This is nothing like a toilet! It is less frightening and probably more sanitary to use a bush, but there was no wilderness to be found; just rows of shacks surrounded by barbed wire. To protect what? I don’t know. Maybe the Virgin Mary statues and hoards of candles.

I assumed they’d be a cranky old pair living in such poor conditions, but since this was all they really knew they were surprisingly content. But I was kind of frustrated in this foreign land; it was a bitch not being able to understand my own kin. What was even weirder was trying to mingle with the kids in the barrio. They ignored us whenever we said, "Hi."
Surely they could understand that much? Nope. They would just stare and talk amongst themselves as they passed by. So my sis and I played with our dolls out in the heat under a shady tree and hoped we’d be leaving soon. And preferably before we’d have to pee again.

After what seemed like an all-day-long-eternity but was probably an hour (I did not enjoy playing with AKA babysitting a two-yr-old) two boys who looked about eight and ten walked by and made a beeline right for our van. They disappeared around to the other side of the unlocked van, where the sliding door was located. Little five-year-old me thought they might be up to some trouble. All I could think was I had to defend our van and figured yelling at them in English would scare them away. So I boldly ran over and just as I turned the corner of the van to tell them off, I stopped dead in my tracks about two feet from where they stood. One of the boys was zipping up and the other still had his dinky out. They both turned to find me standing there with very big eyes. They promptly ran away, leaving two fresh puddles behind them. So my plan worked after all; and I didn’t have to make a sound.

*****************************************

Back in Tucson either the very next day or shortly thereafter, we went to visit a couple who were my parents’ friends. They had a boy my age and a girl my sister’s age. The boy immediately began to creep me out. He just stood there and smiled at me. Our parents suggested we go play together. Considering it was either that, listen to a boring adult convo or play with the younger girls, I went off with the little urchin.

We went to his bedroom and I had a look around at his playthings. Toy trucks? No. Action figures? Maybe. TV set? Now we’re talking. So I turned on the TV, but then he told me he had something he wanted to show me. I wasn’t prepared for a show and tell session so I was a little perturbed. All of my good stuff was back at home. But I followed him into the closet anyway, thinking he had some cool new toy flashlight that projected an image of Spider Man’s web, or maybe even the Bat Signal. Back home my only male friend and I would role play Super Heroes, but somehow I always ended up being Wonder Woman. There really weren’t any other options for me.

I get into the closet and he tells me to close my eyes for a surprise. So I covered my eyes with my hands and waited for a few seconds. “Open them now,” he said excitedly.

He was standing right next to me and had yanked out his little sidekick. He held it in his small hands and looked at it, then up at me. “Do you want to touch it?”

I never saw him again after that…