All is fair in love and.....

No, not all is fair; Rape and molestation. Not fair. Horrible.

I am blogging with somewhat of a purpose today, because my heart is heavy, and my head is angry. A man I went to grade school with has turned into a pedophile. Great, right? I read about him in the paper a few months back, and was literally nauseated by the story, seen here. Yet, for some reason I've still kept him on my Facebook friends list. I emailed him the day I read the article, and he responded stating it was unfounded, ridiculous, and untrue. What else are you going to say? Admit it via Facebook? Of course not, especially not when you just got out of jail, and your status is about being happy to have your bed back and hot food. Yeah, he's got his priorities straight.

I've thought about this off and on over the past few months, and talked about it on a few occasions with our mutual friends. Although none of us had really kept up with him, because he had gotten a bit weird, our wheels were still turning over his charge report. What in God's name is the matter with him, and anyone else who preys on children. He was a child himself at the time these incidents reportedly occurred. What 14 year old rapes/molests 6 and 9 year old girls?! I cannot wrap my mind around it.

I've found out recently that he is engaged, and his fiancee is pregnant. The baby is a girl. Hopefully, you just cringed the way I did when I found this out. Of course, the parents-to-be are thrilled, and why wouldn't they be? A baby is a blessed occasion. I'm just hoping that the state is keeping tabs on him and his involvement with this blessed occasion until his trial. I'm also hoping they take the baby away from him, because I'm certain the mother is not smart enough to leave. That was made apparent by a bar scene a few days ago. A friend, his once best friend at that, approached him quietly, and inquired about the charges. He flew off the handle and started screaming/yelling obscenities, and his girl jumped in. It looked like they belonged on an episode of cops, and that she should have been barefoot in a front yard. What a sight. Yet, in all of the dramatics, he never once denied anything, never tried to plead his case to his old buddy. He didn't even feed him a line of malarkey and  try to lie his way out of it. He just went berserk. I now pronounce you guilty, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

I've attacked him on Facebook over this bar scene, which I really shouldn't have, I know. I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. Not keeping my mouth shut is probably my biggest flaw. That, and I'm beyond nosey. I guess I need to just let it go, because I shouldn't be judging people. That's in God's job description, not mine.

So until I can let it go, or anything else I'm dwelling on; I'll be here ranting. Just sayin'.

Corner to Corner

Have you ever tried to fold a fitted sheet? How far do you get before you're irritated?

As I was putting the laundry away, I came to the fitted sheet. I decided to pause, and Google the exact directions to folding a fitted sheet. As always, Google came to my rescue.

1. Wash and dry your sheets before folding and storing them.
2. Remove sheets from dryer while they are still warm so that they do not wrinkle. If the sheets are already cool, put them back in the dryer with a moist cloth for a couple of minutes.
3. Put your right hand in the right top corner of the sheet, and fold the left top corner of the sheet over your right hand.
4. Keep holding the sheet with your right hand and gather up a bottom corner, folding it over the right hand as well.
5. Take the remaining corner and fold it over your right hand.
6. Fold the sheet into a square, then continue folding in half until you have reached the desired size.

Alright, step number one is completely unnecessary; Unless your a dirty person that is. Also, who needs to be told to dry them before they store them? Isn't that a given? Sadly, I guess it isn't. Now for step number two; Am I the only person who doesn't care if my sheets are a little wrinkly? I am confident enough that the bed police will not be storming my bedroom in a SWAT-like manner; So I will not be putting in extra sheet dedication for the unlikelihood that event will occur. I know, I know; My poor husband sleeps on slightly wrinkled sheets. I'm the worst wife ever.

Now, somewhere in the middle of, or in between steps three and four, I'm annoyed. I don't think I've ever gotten to step five, let alone step six. I usually end up rolling it into a square like oval, and placing it in the linen closet just so. I then place the perfectly folded flat/top sheet on top, to make a nice little lopsided pair.

To anyone who has ever folded a fitted shit properly like those directions state, or to anyone who will after reading those directions; You're amazing and you're a better person than I am.

I don't think I'll ever fold those sheets the right way, and that's okay. I've been with my husband for seven years, and he hasn't complained yet, so I guess I'm in the clear.

I bet Martha Stewart can fold a fitted sheet. Just sayin'.

Exigency & Plight

I feel like those should be the names of the children I'm never going to have. It's just one thing or another, or a crisis entirely.


I feel like a band is breaking up, the gambler is folding, or like I just watched an Olympic runner trip and fall in front of the finish line, but not cross it. I feel immensely disappointed. This part of my life is turning into a circus; I mean it's been a card house for a while, but the wind just picked up. Epic fail.


What is an epic fail you ask?


 Epic Fail -A mistake of such monumental proportions that it requires its own term in order to sucessfully point out the unfathomable shortcomings of an individual or group. Thank you Urban Dictionary.


I feel like as much as I'm involved by association, that I am, and am going to be, watching the upcoming events unfold from a distance. It's like an out of body experience of sorts. There are times that I am in complete disbelief; And I'd like to point out that those times are getting closer and closer together. Is this happening? Do people act like this? Were you not reprimanded as child when you had a tantrum that was completely unfounded? Apparently not; So get out of the fetal position and just do something already. You aren't always going to have a scape goat, so you need to just own up to your personal misfortune.


I wish I could just stick my head  in the sand, or better yet, run around with my hands over my ears yelling 'LALALALALALA' at the top of my lungs. Maybe if I drag one of my feet like I have a club foot they'll feel badly for me, and leave me alone. No? Eh, it works for some people.


It's the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine) - R.E.M. 


I do feel fine, but I can't deny that I see the mushroom cloud on the horizon. Just sayin'.

No respect...

This is what my husband mumbles to me as he is sitting in his chair. Mind you, he was just chasing me through the house like a child, trying to tickle me and goose me. What does it mean to goose someone? Here's your answer. Now, knowing what a goose is, you know I was running from him screaming like a burn victim. Picture Titan our K9 chasing behind him barking, and you'll have this circus of an evening mentally pictured in its entirety. What possessed him, I'll never know.

He tried to tickle me, and I fled the bedroom; I ran into the laundry room, and decided to just put the laundry away, because I figured we were done. When I was in the laundry room, he decided to come in with his BB gun and point it at my bare feet, laughing hysterically saying 'It doesn't hurt, it's just BB's!'. This led to me scrambling on top of the washer, and screaming like a lunatic. I hopped down, got brave, and chased him into the office. I shoved him into a cabinet, and knocked 2 glass candle holders down, which exploded onto the wood floors like a bomb, cutting his feet up. Great. Now he's whining like a big baby about his feet being cut, and I'm sweeping up a giant pile of glass shards while Titan waits in the wings wanting to play too. He comes back into the office after cleaning up his wounds, and picks up the BB gun again. Seriously babe? This was the next conversation/30 seconds of my life:

AC: 'Look, it doesn't hurt, it's just a BB. I'll show you
AC then points the rifle towards his thigh, and pulls the trigger.
AC: 'Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!!'
I then give AC the stupidest pity face I can muster.
KC: 'It's doesn't hurt huh?'
AC: 'Okay it does hurt, a lot. Wow, look at that welt.'
AC then took the walk of shame out of the office.
KC: 'You're an idiot.'

Now that all that is done, I go back into the bedroom to put the clean sheets on the bed. Here he comes, trying to tickle me and pin me on the bed. Joke's on him, I got my leg out and flailed backwards. This caused him to go over backwards off the bed, fall down the side and get his head smashed between the night stand and bed frame. My poor foot got pinned between his body and the bed rail on the way down, and truly bent in such a way that I am shocked it did not snap like a twig. The top of it, which has my tattoo on it, got scraped badly though, and that hurts a lot too. What is the matter with us?

He's feisty tonight. He worked last night, and didn't sleep today; So he's probably just deliriously tired. Either way, we are too old to be acting like this. Just sayin'.

Limbo

Well, limbo is not a good place to be. - Bill Joy

I'm in limbo, and I don't like it. It's not a good place to be. I hate being in between things. Even when you're almost certain of it one way; It is almost always possible for it to go another way. I am the type of person who likes things planned, intricatly; And I typically don't like surprises. Well, I do when it's good, and coming from my husband. His good surprises are the best. I just like to be certain of my future, my immediate future at least. I hate it when my weekend plans are ruined or changed, it makes me crabby. That being said, I'm sure you can imagine me being unsure of my future at the moment, I'm easily irritable. In fact, I'm waking up irritated. I'm certain enough of this issue, however, to not be losing sleep over it; So a solid thumbs up to that at least. I'm just unsure of what's going to unfold, and I want to play my cards right. Where do I go from here? Up, down, or sideways? Lord only knows.

This brings excitement to me, certain aspects do anyway; And other aspects bring uncertainty, which gives me nerves. A Nervy B, which is what I so lovingly call a nervous breakdown, was had on Friday night; By yours truly. I basically 'what if' myself into an oblivion. An oblivion that requires a medicinal solution, some water, and sleep. I 'what if' a 'what if', inside of another 'what if'; It's really rather ridiculous. The result of that mental questioning being me laying in  all of my laundry crying, is also rather ridiculous.

Who cares? If it's going to happen, it's going to happen.

Life is like a game of cards.  The hand you are dealt is determinism; the way you play it is free will.  -Jawaharlal Nehru

 I need to learn to just relax, and let it ride. Everything happens for a reason, and God will not lead me where he cannot protect me. He can always protect me. Hakuna Matata, right? No worries, no problem. Just be.

I guess I need yoga, a zen garden, or a xanax mashed up in my eggs every morning. Just sayin'.

 

Money can't buy happiness....?

I strongly beg to differ. Not about the sentence literally, but figuratively. Of course money can't buy happiness literally, but figuratively, I think it comes darn close.

If I had more money, not a million dollars, just more money coming in each month, I can say with confidence I'd be a happier person.  If I didn't have to budget so closely each month (I' m talking dimes here, people), I don't think I'd be as irritable every night. I can say that because I wouldn't be hunched over at my desk with my computer, desk-top calendar, and a calculator mumbling about my quarters and how poorly the pay-days fall this month. My husband wouldn't be trying to talk to me while I was doing just that, so I wouldn't be biting his head off because 'I'm trying to count' like I do now. Me not biting his head off would improve our relationship in two ways; He doesn't like having his head being bit off, and I don't like him calling me a grouch. I do all the budgeting, don't call me a grouch! I am the Super-Jew that makes it possible for you to have your guns, your meaningless car accessories, your expensive Under Armor, and your dog that eats like a horse and craps like a cow. You're welcome. You better respect the Super Jew.

Having more money would also make me happier because I could help my mother more. Now, helping her isn't what necessarily would make me happy, but shutting her up certainly would be. I love her, but the woman is difficult, and drives me bonkers. This day is a perfect example of that fact. I know it sounds terrible, but my relationship with my mother is more complex than I will ever have words to describe.

My sister is having a baby in July; Having more money each month would help enable my husband and I to be the coolest aunt/uncle ever. Not that we aren't going to be already, but spoiling him rotten would be a a bonus.

Until I hit the lottery, or land an amazing job, I will just have to continue to be the Super Jew of budgeting. Just sayin'.

The bitter end

The bitter end, of my weekend. It takes so long to get here, and then it disappears so quickly. I can't complain, I do get a lot done on my weekends; but it would be nice to get one more day to actually relax.

This weekend we helped friends with a few things of theirs, being as they've recently moved, and are renting out their old house. We also sorted through our closets and dressers, we put our winter clothing in storage, and donated anything we don't wear. What a difference that made in our bedroom.

Also, going to storage makes me sad, because I see all of my household items and furniture, that I miss so dearly. It makes me want to cry, and on occasional visits I do. Whenever I see anything that I know I'd want in my house, I buy it, and it goes into my storage unit. Someday, hopefully soon, I will be blessed enough to decorate one last house. I miss having a home, and at the same time, am completely sick of moving. I need to play the lottery, and win the money to buy a home.

If anyone wants to buy us a home, we would certainly be appreciative. Just sayin'.