You’re going to notice that things look a little wonky but that’s because I’m working on changing this template. So far so good!
Alright, we all know I’m a little bit of a, to put it mildly, clutz. The grace thing completely missed me, unfortunately, but it has made for some rather interesting stories so I guess that’s the silver lining.
Before I get in to my story too much, let me explain what I was doing.
Geocaching: A high-tech treasure hunting game played throughout the world by adventure seekers equipped with GPS devices. The basic idea is to locate hidden containers, called geocaches, outdoors and then share your experiences online. Geocaching is enjoyed by people from all age groups, with a strong sense of community and support for the environment.
Wesley (my booooooyfriend for those that don’t know) took me on my first geocaching adventure (or 5 of them if you want to get technical) and I was actually surprised that there were so many in Blahsvillage, but there were! So, the first one started out fairly close to my house, we got the clue and moved on. As we got to the creek near the nature center and there was no bridge we decided to just cross on a log.
Simple, right? Yeah, but then you add to the equation that I have no grace and it’s a recipe for failure. Believe me, it was an epic fail too.
As we crossed the log I thought that since there was such a pile up of crap that it wouldn’t be as scary and it’s not like we were high up or anything and falling would only mean my feet got wet. So I’m about half way over when I decide that the rubbish on the side of the log looked stable enough to support me. Checked it. Yep, stable!
The next thing I know I’m crotch deep in the muck. The first thing that goes through my head is, ‘Please don’t let this be an actual beaver dam.’ and the next is, ‘Please don’t let there be rats or mice in here.’ because I’d imagine a leg crashing in on your home would be rather upsetting. I had visions of rodents, large and small, gnawing on my leg.
It’s only too bad I don’t have a picture of me in the hole.
In any case, I came out fairly unscathed, just a couple hundred little scrapes and one big scratch-bruise (it was a combo!) to show for it. Of course after I got out of the hole and across I walked through some prickers and they imbedded themselves in the SAME leg that was just scratched all to hell, but such is life. At least I only had one leg that had to heal.
The fall only made me more determined to fine the geocache but unfortunately we gave up on that one. Out of the whole day (or hole day- har!) we found 2 of the 5, but it was incredibly fun and I can’t wait to go again.
I’ve had this conversation with a few people already, but I’m just going to ask it again.
Are there really females in the world too busy to take their birth control with water?
Ok, to start from the beginning, I went to visit the OBGYN in the early winter and got a new birth control because apparently the one I was on was “old and there are some that are much better now”. So he prescribed me some YAZ which, I have to admit, have some good commercials and the thought is nice, but yeah. Not for me. I was a complete psycho on it. Freaking out over nothing, spazing when I normally don’t do that, and I could feel that something was just not right, but I couldn’t put my finger on what was making me so crazy. Then one day it hit me… evil, evil YAZ.
So after trying it for 4 months I’d had enough of being the kind of girl that I always am so proud of not being. I’m a logical thinker, and not that I don’t get emotional at all – I’m not a robot, I just tend to be less emotional. I have to say though, I was feeling my bitchy side there for a while. Anyway, I finally changed my birth control and what did my doctor give me? Birth control you can chew! Mint flavored.
I just can’t imagine anyone that doesn’t have the time to pick up a bottle or glass of water to take a teeny-tiny pill with. Also, I refuse to chew it.
I can just hear it now: “Hey, do you have a toothpick? I have some birth control stuck in my teeth.” or how about, “Do you have any mints?” “Hmm, I have mint flavored birth control, will that do?”
Seriously people. Chewable birth control?
He wasn’t the most talkative of men, our Bobert, but he did make my mom very happy. On May 16th, two days after his birthday, he passed away of lung complications at the age of 77.
The last thing he said to me was, “Do you have anything sweet or anything?” and I feel horrible now that I didn’t just give him something instead of telling him I wasn’t allowed to. The thing is, we all just thought he was going to pull right through it. He was going to get better just like he always did. He went in to the hospital, then a nursing home, back to the hospital, and back to the nursing home before we were called at 2 in the morning to tell us that he was having breathing problems and was being sent to the ER.
We were greeted with a bright, “There’s my Ellie!” when we entered, followed by, “..and Jennifer Lee!” for some reason he always included my middle name. He had a nickname for everyone (accept for my brother Keith’s wife Michelle which he always would say, “Nobody likes Shell.”) in the family, you see, and everyone had one that never changed but mine always seemed to. The last one was “Jenny… a symphony on two legs.” which my mom and I were puzzled as to what that meant, but I appreciated it all the same. None the less, whatever nickname he chose for me he always followed it up with some sort of compliment. “The best cooker-baker-maker.” Or “She’s nice to everyone, and birds, and cats, and dogs, and even migrates.” Although he wasn’t quite sure what a migrate was exactly, and neither did we, but again who cares? It was still a very nice compliment.
He was rather particular about what he wore, and while those 5am “Jenny, I feel sweaty. I need a new shirt” calls were not always appreciated, now they seem like nothing at all. We had a hard time getting him to eat much, and he started to change a bit, was grumpy when he’d never been, shouted when he’d never done that, but all those things were just part of his dementia. I started making him jello and put pineapple in it because that was his favorite fruit. When he wouldn’t eat anything else, he’d eat that jello. I’ll never be able to look at jello the same again, and truthfully it’s going to be a long time before I’ll be able to make it again too.
He was a great guy, and while he and I didn’t always see eye to eye, his core and spirit were the sweetest and kindest sort. Always the simple kind of person. We laughed at the fact that, now he’ll have his choice of all the flavors of ice cream there ever could be and he’d still just pick vanilla with a little chocolate sauce.
You are missed, Bobert. You really are.
At this point there are so many, many good stories that this post would be horribly long and likely only interesting to me in the reading department. So, to make it easier on the both of us, I’ll sum up what it’s been like since … last spring? Something like that.
My brother Keith brought his family, it was bad. He was all emo and taking everything personally, as emo-types are want to do, and then proceeded to tell me that I’m dried up and that he disliked my “attitude” because I told him that I didn’t have a favorite food type.
Yeah, I didn’t get it either.
Anyway, called him an asshole and that was that. The visit ended pleasantly – mostly because he was leaving – and we were fine by then.
The other Keith decided to stop talking to me because he found out about his 19yr old son. I guess everyone has a breaking point or something… and it’s better to find out that we weren’t a real couple before I was in it more heavily. Like, living with him like he was always urging. I wonder how things would have gone had I taken him up on that? Actually, I don’t wonder… but I did. Also, he has a mullet… or maybe it was just hockey hair. Love really is blind.
Yay! My brother Keith brought his family out for a week of hell. His daughter Brittany nearly broke my finger, in fact we were sure it was broken for a little while, but then it turned out not to be. Which I was happy about. I never said anything nasty to her, in fact I kept playing badminton even with the pain pulsing and my brother and his wife said nothing to her about it. Didn’t yell at her, didn’t even give her a dirty look, and so I tucked that in to the back of my head.
Tyler, their middle child is a raging youngster. He is always so angry about everything, and if he doesn’t get his way immediately it’s all about tears and stomping and throwing things, it’s not fun to be around that. Especially since kids tend to ask for things they’re not allowed to have or do on a regular basis… so yeah, that was awesome.
That trip ended badly.
The day they were suppose to leave there was a HUGE storm, and pouring rain, and flooded highways. Did that stop me? Heck no. I was driving as fast as I possibly could… and damn if they didn’t miss their flight anyway. So, I trucked them back home so I could do it all again the next damn day. Only that night was bad. Tyler chased my cat up the steps, and I told him not to and all hell broke loose.
In the end Sausage toes, Keith’s wife, stormed out and I made fun of her to her face. That’s what you get for being an asshat to me.
Their trip wasn’t all broken fingers and badness, there were some really hilarious times and fun too. Hide n seek goodness, and scaring the kids by jumping from bushes, and smores and story telling. It’s only too bad that some times all the goodness is cancelled out by just a touch of bad… or in this case a bucket of it.
The rest of the summer was pretty boring, … and believe me that boredom was welcomed.
Not a whole lot happened… well, there was Bob, my step father, nearly dying. My mom and I had to be in the hospital with him for 2 weeks, and he had a stint put in his heart. He’s all good now though… and they had to stay longer than normal so they got to see a little snow fall and freezing rain before they left.
Or should I say… before WE left. I’m down here in Florida with them now, and I’ll be here until after New Years. It’s going to be horribly lonely at home when I go back… my cat is here too. Apparently she also needed a vacation, but she’s really enjoying herself. So I plan on traveling.
Everyone better get their spare rooms/couches ready. I’m coming!
On a side note, I ran in to the awesome book for little girls that I’m sending to my neice. It’s called “The Daring book for Girls” and it’s so freaking awesome. I wish I had it when I was a little girl, and in fact there are a few things in it that I was reading on… like how to whistle with two fingers? Palm reading! Clubhouse building… the list goes on and on, and they have one for boys too.
And last but not least….
I have the bestest friend in the whole world. My friend Meghan. She is like my beacon of hope and is always there with a laugh and a cute cell phone message when I really need it. It’s like she has a Jenny beeper that goes off when I’m at my lowest. I lubs you too, Meggers!
I wrote this for you!
I know it’s been a long while since I last posted, so I’ll skip all the boring crap and get to the good stuff.
Alright, clearly by posting this I am burning a bridge with Keith that won’t be salvagable … if he reads it. I’m sure he was looking for a post like this long ago, but I’ve been too busy to post anything. Now that I have time I’ll share this gem of a life lesson that I was taught to me by him.
First a little back-story. Last spring my step-father was put in intensive care and my mom was having a break down being there, far away from home, and all by herself. I flew down to be with her and to help her gather her wits about her and take off a large portion of the work load so she wouldn’t get sick herself. I made sure the house they have up north was completely clean before I went, had the carpets steam cleaned, etc… and then did the same for them when I got down to Florida. Suffice it to say, I was working my little fingers to the bone to make sure that my parents had less to worry about and so my step-father could concentrate on getting better, and my mom more put together.
So, … Keith and I were perfectly fine, or so I thought. I was exhausted at night, which is the only time he had to call me because he too was busy. So, we got to talk less… and less… and less… and then, suddenly, he stopped talking to me altogether. I would call and he wouldn’t pick up the phone. So, of course, since he lives alone my immediate thoughts are that something is wrong. You know, car accidents, stabbed, … it’s amazing what your imagination can cook up when you haven’t the slightest idea what’s going on.
A week passes… nothing. I send him txt messages, call a million times, and then… his house phone is disconnected. The only number I have left to reach him is his cell phone, and 9 times out of 10, it would go either immediately to voicemail, or it would ring possibly once and then go. I start thinking… I did something wrong and made him mad. What could that possibly be? So … finally… after a week and a half, he response to an email I wrote to his work address. It reads:
I’ll call you tonight. Way too much to go into. An no it is not what you think. I would have replied to this email sooner but I honestly didn’t see it today.
I read it and think…. what exactly does he think I think? All my email said was, … ‘Where the heck have you been?’ and some other things about ending things like adults. So I wait as patiently as I can for him to call me that night, and boy was I ever anxious to hear what he had to say. Now I’m not worried anymore, I’m mad.
I’m sure you’re thinking… that’s it? Oh hells no… it gets better. So much freakin’ better.
He says, “Remember when I told you about so-n-so and how she said she was pregnant and then left me so I figured it wasn’t my baby because she was a cheater anyway?”
I say, “Um… no?”
He says, “Oh, I didn’t tell you about that? Hm.. I thought I did.”
I say, “Ooookay, so… you’ve been avoiding me because you’re with her now or something?”
He says, “On monday she calls me on the phone, early in the morning, and asks ‘Would you like to meet your 19 yr old son?”
He’s 12yrs older than I am, so that’s not impossible for him. Now mind you, he has 2 other kids, which he neglected to tell me about in the beginning of our relationship, and I didn’t care that he had them when I found out, what would make me care about a third one?
So… he dumped me because why? Because he didn’t want a third woman telling him what to do in his life, and I didn’t give him any kids so I was the first one off the list.
Then I realized I learned two life lessons from him:
Life Lesson #5,236: Never trust a guy who lies from the start and acts holier-than-thou about everything else.
Life Lesson #5,237: People with mullets are assholes.
Also, a new question to ask a potential date: “Hey… you don’t have any 19yr old kids you don’t know about, do you?”
I’m starting to think I just need to start collecting cats or something.
Oh the tangled webs we weave…
My brother David, the douche bag from my last post, is at it again. This time it’s to hilarious (although I didn’t think so when it was happening) not to post about it.
Little back story:
About a month or so ago David’s house was broken into (again – thank you karma) and his computer and a duffle bag of his papers — which had his passwords in them — were stolen. About a week after that someone was using his yahoo account and instant messaging a friend or someone he works with, I really don’t know their relationship. I recommended he email yahoo and have them investigate but he insisted the cable company told him to call the police and that they had “forensic investigators” looking into it.
Now for the good stuff:
So, since I’ve been down here we’ve gotten a letter from Time Warner Cable about “complaints of unacceptable use”. Since I can’t think of a single thing that I could have possibly been reported for, I figured it was something to do with David. My mom didn’t understand the letter so I explained it to her and told her that I’d call the cable company and see what the problem was or if maybe we’d gotten the letter by accident. David calls that night and she tells him about it and says that I was going to call the next day. He says, “No, I’ll just go down there.” When she tells me he’s going I immediately called the cable company. Why? My past experience with David is that he may or may not actually go, and then if it’s his fault, he’ll blame me. I know it sounds paranoid, but it’s the complete truth. He’s a shifty character.
So, I talk with the ‘tier 3’ so-n-so (apparently he’s higher on the chain of command) and get what’s been happening. He asks if I have a wireless router, and all I heard was router so I said I did. Then he goes into an explaination about how I need to get a wep key, blah blah.. and we decide it’s probably better to just put the cable on vacation until we get back. Afterall, I was under the assumption someone outside the house was doing it now, using our cable, so why would we risk having our cable taken out? So we put it on vacation and he says that when I get back into town just to call and it won’t cost a thing to put it back up. Problem solved, right? What do I care, I still have the internet here.
That night my mom makes me call David about it, which I knew was going to be rough. So I tell him about all the bad activity that we had and that we just decided to shut the cable off until we got home and I could do something about the security I didn’t know I needed to have (and I didn’t know because I didn’t need it). He was clearly mad about the whole thing, and got all pissy about it and hung up. I laughed and said, “Man, he’s pissed.” and my mom’s response was, “I don’t care. It’s my house and my bill, I’ll do what I want with it.”
This is when it gets really interesting. The next night David calls and asks my mom to turn the cable back on because he wants to do his “research”… aka surf porn. She tells him she won’t and he tells her he went to Comcast (note that I said we use Time Warner earlier?) and that they told him that half of Blahsvillage is angry at us. My mom’s horrified. “They know WE did something?” I’m sure her mind is racing about neighbors giving her evil looks and such. He goes on to say that they didn’t know it was us. He says he infected a weather website with a virus, but that I put said virus on his computer. He says that every time he goes to this weather website to check the weather he infects the site with his virus. The virus then attacks only the students of Blahsvillage causing them to get pop-ups. Now the parents of Blahsvillage are mad and they’re calling Comcast. Alright, so when he calls (remember he already said he went down there) apparently the cable company was about to turn off all the cable we have, including the cable down here. That means tv cable, phone, internet…everything, but our hero David saved the day. He told them that wasn’t the case, and that they needed to keep it on.
Yeah,… I know. I’ll pause here a moment so the big flashing WHAT THE F*CK? sign above your head can stop flashing.
Alrighty then! Yeah, now is when it gets even more interesting. You see, apparently I not only put this very clever virus on my step-father’s computer so that if David used it he’d infect websites, *I* was the one that hacked into his yahoo account and messaged his friend Steve! His friend then tracked down the IP address and it led him to my computer. Naturally, I mean, I am the master of all things evil. The problem with that is, we have a router and so the best he could do, which I highly doubt he would even know how to, would be to track it to my house or area… not my computer. When he told Comcast about it, Comcast told him that he could press charges against me. And when the police from imagination station come to get me, I’m going to bop them on the head with my magic wand.
Now, this story alone would only be fodder for me to make fun of David had he not involved my mother. She’s stressed enough with all the things to do with Bob, let alone worrying about his pressing fake charges against me that would never come to fruition should someone with half a brain be listening. My mom knows absolutely nothing about computers, infact she knows even less than that, so all this was believable to her. So I had to spend an entire night explaining how everything was so completely wrong, and could not even remotely be true.
My favorite line during their conversation? “Jenny and I could really get along if we just stop playing games.” He thinks I sit in my bedroom hatching my next evil plan against him, when it’s more like… I could care less what he’s freaking doing. He’s just luck he wasn’t here when my mom told me about it. Lets just say the hand I like to use for bitch-slapping was itchy.
I’m pretty sure at this point that I was adopted, or maybe since I look like my mother’s clone, that all the common sense and smart juices were saved for when I was born. Let me walk you through it from oldest sibling to myself:
David – total douche bag, cares only about himself, uses his disease to get things out of pity, absolutley crooked, lying, thief, no common sense. His only saving grace is that he does stuff like fix things for my mom… but unfortunately, I think he might me a drug dealer or something. No haniman has the hours he does. Out until 1am every night? Hardly.
Van – No common sense, married to what looks like a man but claims to be a woman. I can’t say too many horrible things about this one, he’s the only one I’m not pissed at right now. Good Vanny.
Scott – Calls just to make my mom (or I) feel bad about ourselves. Insists I’m a bum because I’ve not got a “job” on top of what I do for my parents. Ass licker. Anyway, he’s smart, but who cares? Wish he were nicer, this brother would actually be nice to talk to if he weren’t such a biotch.
Kim – Man, there’s so much I’d have to write another post! She’s just badness, lets say that. She used to be my closest sibling but she’s really messed up now and blames me for her failing relationship with my mom… which proves her lack of common sense.
Keith – Over – emotional ( and that’s a lot coming from me), ultra-sensitive, and totally whipped by his wife, sausage toes. Lets her poison his mind against rational thinking and so also has no common sense. He’s being assimulated into Michelle’s (sausage toes) family. It’s too bad, he has the potential to be a close sibling.
Now me, I’m not perfect! I admit that. I do, however, have some common sense to hold me up and I don’t speak about things I don’t know about like I do know about them. (If that makes any sense) I care about my parents and I actually retained the things my parents taught me when I was young. It’s almost like I was raised by totally different parents the way my siblings are compaired to me.
This whole post was brought on by my brother Scott’s call last night. He just wanted to be mean and decided that calling me a bum would make him feel better about himself. Well then, I’ll trade him. How about he takes no sleep, getting up early, doing a crap load of things for Mom and Bob and then starting that over again the next day? Then I can be a prissy biotch!
Alright, that’s enough ranting for now. It’s the lack of sleep talking, I’m sure.
For the past few nights it’s gone like this. Around midnight my mom insists that I sleep in her bed “because there’s a t.v.” when in actuality I think it’s because she hates to be alone. So anyway, we go to bed and Bob sleeps in his lazy boy because of his oxygen mask. About an hour after I lay down Bob rings his little bell (because with his mask on we can’t hear him) and then an hour after that, and about a couple hours after that. Last night it was, “Can you take me to the bathroom?” Which means we all have to get up to make sure his trip there is safe, etc. It doesn’t make for an extremely motivated Bunny, I must say.
So fine, less sleep…whatever. Then yesterday happens… my brother Keith’s wife, sausage toes Michelle, gets offended at an email I’d sent her. We had been exhanging emails about the kids, Bob, and Easter. She mentioned in one that Keith had come down with a cold and had a cough lingering but that it seemed to be clearing up. The she says that he wanted to come down here for Easter but that she recommended they didn’t because Bob would likely be “down and out” for a little while. So when I replied I said it’d be a bad idea, no a horrible idea, to come down with Keith having a cold. Then, that if he gave Bob a cold, or gave us a one and we gave it to him, Bob would die. So Keith calls yesterday to say that I offended her by saying “horrible idea”… but that my mom wasn’t suppose to tell me this. That sausage toes never wants to “come between you and your family, Keith”. I’m like… what the hell is offensive about saying that? Who is she? The cold virus?
Anyway, later Keith (my brother) calls my mom and mentions that he’s getting a tattoo and that he wanted her to look at it. So she has me pull up an email with the picture and we both gag at it. A big dragon with 3 little dragons that Michelle had drawn. He plans on getting this large tattoo on his ribs just under his arm… and on the morning they plan on coming here. Sooo.. if he gets an infection, my parents will have to deal with it too. Good plan! So he says, “Mom, what do you think?” So my mom tells him she doesn’t like tattoos and she’s concerned about dirty needles and such… and as she’s talking Michelle pipes up with, “Keith, what’s wrong?” and he says, “Oh, my mom’s concerned about my getting a tattoo… she doesn’t like the idea.” and she says, “What? She doesn’t like me because I have a tattoo?” My mom actually has to explain that it’s not the tattoo or the person, she doesn’t like. It’s the possibility of infection, etc. The rest of the night my mom’s storming around the house ranting about it. Thanks, sausage toes. That whore better shape up or there’s going to be major mudder-feekin’ issues brought up and no one’s going to like.
Thank goodness Meghan doesn’t mind when I call her for a few minutes here and there to hear a sane person and talk about things other than Bob’s peeing habits.
Anyway, so my Keith (not my brother) calls me later in the evening, ’round 11ish and I’m telling him how my day’s going and he falls asleep on the phone. When I get frustrated about it, he gets mad at me for getting mad at him. Is it too much to ask for a little time to rant to someone that’s suppose to care about me? If he calls me tonight, we’ll see.
Seriously, I’m starting to think people really suck a lot.
Tomorrow I leave for Florida because Bob went into intensive care on thursday (I think thursday) and my mom is slowly going nuts from it all. My original plans were to leave Friday, but when she keeps calling me crying I just can’t sit by and do nothing.
My sister-in-law, the one I like to call sausage toes, Michelle has lowered herself on my totem pole of points to be equal with B-renda (my other “sister”-in-law) because of the stunt she pulled yesterday. My mom has been really exhausted and doesn’t feel like explaining the story over and over again so she hasn’t been calling everyone in the family. Instead she calls me and I call everyone and explain it over and over. Well, yesterday I called my brother Keith’s wife Michelle and told her what’s going on and that her plans to come down on Sunday would have to wait for another time. She’s been wanting to come down for a little mini-vacation (they only live 3 hrs away from my parents) and thought that it would still be ok even though Bob’s in the hospital. Umm… actually it’s not, you selfish whore. (No, I didn’t say this to her face… just to everyone else.) So when I say, “You want to come down to vacation while no one’s at home?” and she comes back with this, “I just want to be there for your mom like family should.” This line sent me into a rage that I had to carefully tuck away before I melted her with my words. “Well, she’s not at home all day and when she gets home she doesn’t want to socialize she wants to eat and go to sleep.” This didn’t satisfy Ms. Sausage Toes, nope! She wanted me to call my mom and ask her anyway, just incase. So I agree, fully planning on never mentioning it to my mom.
Why does her saying “I just want to be there for your mom like family should.” send me into a rage? Well, it’s not like they didn’t know Bob was in bad shape before this freakin’ week. My parents have been in Florida now for nearly 6 months and even though they live 3 hrs away they’ve only visited them once. Christmas was suppose to be with my parents, they cancelled. Then New Years, cancelled. The list goes on and on like this. When do they make sure they call my parents? When they know a birthday check should be coming in the mail! Now, of all times, she wants to be helpful like family should? Why? Because she wants a vacation! So, my mom’s suppose to go to the hospital and then come home and entertain her, clean up after her (because she’s a slob), and watch her child? Umm no.
So I called her back and flat out told her she’s not coming down for a vacation. What does she do? She has my brother call me in the morning to guilt me about it. Sorry Charlie, still not happening. The only people whose feelings I care about right now are the people that actually care about me and my parents.
It’s times like these where you learn who your true friends are.