Small dead animals. All kinds, colors, and shapes. Usually missing a body part or two or in someone's vomit.
Small living animals. Usually in need of assistance. They make me scream and squirm and my toes curl and I can't move. It's horrifying.
My dog Joe's lightbulb collection.
All of my dirty underwear. Fucking Dogs.
My friend Charlie. Asleep. On a dog bed. Long story.
4 policemen. That's never a good sight.
A herd of cattle. I'm not joking. We tryed to catch them. Q said "the dogs will love um!"
My neighbors 6 yr. old son Buddy. when I asked him what he was doing he said "trespassing." All righty then.
12 inches of snow. Best day ever.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Well now. That was a shitty weekend.
It gave me a headache that won't go away. It pissed me off. It confirmed to me that opinions are indeed like assholes, everybody's got one. And more often than not, they are spouting said opinion out the fucking thing.
I'm over it. I am going to just start saying, "please shut the Fuck up. Thank-you." And go on my merry way. It's amazing to me that it has to come to that but than again, when in Rome.
Or more like when in Bremerton.
I tryed really hard to not be a Hater. I tryed to see the big picture and blah fucking blah blah. I honestly do love my house and neighborhood. I think I could love it here if I could just avoid most of the humans. The shit talking, backstabbing and general assholeness of some of these locals has me wishing I could pick my house up like a snail and say "later bitches."
But I can't so I guess I gotta just try to sort it out. I know, I'll make 2 piles. I will start throwing names in them and sticking to the labels I put them under. It's simple. It's all I got in order to survive here without going under. Or crazy. The people I will avoid and choose not to associate with will no longer register on my radar and life will be good.
Ha. Like its that easy. It's like They want you to feel like shit. They just stew up stuff dig their claws into you and force it down your throat. And all the while telling you they are your friend, and golly gee they were just trying to help.
Whatever. Shut up. Go away. Get over yourselves. Oh and Fuck Off.
I don't need friends that don't want to actually be friendly so no thanks. I don't need the fucking stupid self made drama this town feeds off of to keep it going. It's like a fucking shitty day of high school everyday here. Worst part is I can't figure out how to graduate and move on.
Oh well. Not much I can do about it but sit back and take my left foot out of this fucking stupid game of hokey pokey these people love so much. I am taking myself out of the game so kindly find someone else to play. Thanks.
Oh and Bremerton?
FUCK YOU.
It gave me a headache that won't go away. It pissed me off. It confirmed to me that opinions are indeed like assholes, everybody's got one. And more often than not, they are spouting said opinion out the fucking thing.
I'm over it. I am going to just start saying, "please shut the Fuck up. Thank-you." And go on my merry way. It's amazing to me that it has to come to that but than again, when in Rome.
Or more like when in Bremerton.
I tryed really hard to not be a Hater. I tryed to see the big picture and blah fucking blah blah. I honestly do love my house and neighborhood. I think I could love it here if I could just avoid most of the humans. The shit talking, backstabbing and general assholeness of some of these locals has me wishing I could pick my house up like a snail and say "later bitches."
But I can't so I guess I gotta just try to sort it out. I know, I'll make 2 piles. I will start throwing names in them and sticking to the labels I put them under. It's simple. It's all I got in order to survive here without going under. Or crazy. The people I will avoid and choose not to associate with will no longer register on my radar and life will be good.
Ha. Like its that easy. It's like They want you to feel like shit. They just stew up stuff dig their claws into you and force it down your throat. And all the while telling you they are your friend, and golly gee they were just trying to help.
Whatever. Shut up. Go away. Get over yourselves. Oh and Fuck Off.
I don't need friends that don't want to actually be friendly so no thanks. I don't need the fucking stupid self made drama this town feeds off of to keep it going. It's like a fucking shitty day of high school everyday here. Worst part is I can't figure out how to graduate and move on.
Oh well. Not much I can do about it but sit back and take my left foot out of this fucking stupid game of hokey pokey these people love so much. I am taking myself out of the game so kindly find someone else to play. Thanks.
Oh and Bremerton?
FUCK YOU.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
i swear.
The other morning I told Quint to go fuck himself. He rolled his eyes and said, "grow up Molly."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.(oh and stupid comeback btw.)
"It means you act like a kid. Do you ever listen to yourself? All you ever do is swear." And he walked out the door.
Whatever. And so what? I'm pretty sure that DOES make me a grown-up thank you very much. When I was a kid we couldn't swear AT ALL. It was my lifes goal to swear nonstop when I grew up. That would show my parents. I would be so cool. (it hasn't worked out so great yet)
Pissed (fucking pissed. Ha!) I opened the door, shut my eyes and yelled "CUSS WORDS! JUST LET UM FLOW! MOTHER FUCKER SHIT GODDAMN ASSHOLE!"
I heard a gasp and someone started laughing. When I opened my eyes I saw 7 children and their parents waiting at the bus stop. Oh, and a ghost white Quint with his mouth hanging open staring at me.
"Oops!" I said."Sorry."
Quint started to shake his head and turned for the horrified parents. I could hear him explaining about my awful, untreatable case of touretts.
It's not my fault I like to swear. I just do. I'm not stupid, I know I can't swear all the time (yes officer. I just didn't see the fucking stop sign.) And I honestly try not to around kids. (its not my fault there's a bus stop outside my house.) When my stepson Payton is here I have to pay him if i swear. It's a quarter for all words except motherfucker...that one will cost ya 50 cents. (last time my sister Danielle was here she handed him a 20 and said "that should cover me for a couple hours." MY SISTER RULES.)
Like I said, when we were kids we were not aloud to swear. Not like that's uncommon, but my dad seriously did all the time so it was hard not to copy him.(I called him a cocksucker once as a very small child. I had no idea what it ment. All I knew is my dad said it ALL THE TIME.)
My stepmom Linda especially didn't like it. She used words like "turkey" or "silly goose" to describe dumbasses. We all thought this was stupid. When we were out of the parents earshot, pretty much all we did was curse.
"Goddamn it Andy, your a fucking retard."
"Shut the fuck up Alli. your a bitch."
"Buzzo is a mother fucking dumbass."
"Brent sucks. He's such a fucking Asshole."
"Molly is a shithead cunt."
You get the picture.
One day Brent and I decided it was a really good idea to beat the shit out of each other. With each punch, kick, and Indian burn we swore at each other like sailors. When Linda caught us we thought our (silly) goose was cooked.
But it wasn't. She rjust sighed heavily.
"I'm tired of this."she said."do whatever you want. You turkeys never listen anyways." And turned to leave. Brent and I sat there stunned.
"Can we swear?" Brent asked.
"Can I stab him?" I asked.
Linda frowned looked at us and said "swearing yes, stabbing no. I don't care anymore." And walked away.
Brent and I grinned at each other like idiots. (like fucking idiots! LIKE FUCKING IDIOTS! We can swear!)
"Go upstairs and yell at me through the vent." Brent said (for some reason we all loved to talk through the vent but the parents never allowed it. They were so BORING.)
"Awesome." I said and ran upstairs.
I got to the vent and I laid down on my tummy,my chin resting on my crossed arms. I was so excited. Let the games begin!
"Hello bitch." Brent said.
"Hi Dick." I said.
"Asshole!"
"Dumbass!"
"Fucker!"
"Stupid fucker!"
"Dumb fucker!"
"Shithead!"
"Shit eater!"
"Dickhead!"
Silence.
"I said dickhead!"
More silence.
"Brent?" I said "its your turn I said dickhead!"
Totally silent.
So I drew in a deep breath and yelled "MOTHER FUCKER!"
And I was picked up off the floor and dragged ten feet to my room and swiftly thrown in.
What was happening? Whats going on? I got to my feet and turned around to see what happened bumping right into my dad.
"Oh shit." I said. Slapping my hand across my mouth.
"Ya think?" My dad said."now, do you mind telling me WHAT THE FUCK YOU THINK YOUR DOING?"
I was going to die, I could see that now. This must of been why Brent wasn't answering. Poor guy. Dad had gotten him first. I shrugged my shoulders looked my dad and said "I don't know."
My dad hated this answer.
He was convinced only known liars, thieves and useless people (otherwise know as his children) used this phrase. And only when they were guilty.
"Ok, maybe you can tell me why you were screaming swear words down the vent." My dad said.
"Linda said we could." I told him.
My dad just stared at me.
"She did dad. It's true. Ask Brent." (If he was still alive that is.)
My dad just kept staring at me.
"Really. Just ask him." I said.
My dad sighed and sat down on my bed."when I walked in, I saw Brent. He said you've been like this all day and that you made Linda cry. I don't know what I'm going to do with you Molly, but Brent said next time he won't let you get so out of hand."
Who said what now?
I couldn't speak. GODDAMN IT THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE.
My dad slowly got up, walked to my door and said "don't come out of here until tomorrow. No dinner. Only bathroom. You speak, its two days. Do you understand?"
I nodded tears welling up in my eyes. It wasn't fair. I didn't even do anything wrong. But in my house you were guilty until proven innocent.
I layed down on my bed and plotted Brents demise.
And then, faintly through my bedroom vent, I heard laughing and then a stupid assholes voice say "how's it going dumbass?"
Fuck.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.(oh and stupid comeback btw.)
"It means you act like a kid. Do you ever listen to yourself? All you ever do is swear." And he walked out the door.
Whatever. And so what? I'm pretty sure that DOES make me a grown-up thank you very much. When I was a kid we couldn't swear AT ALL. It was my lifes goal to swear nonstop when I grew up. That would show my parents. I would be so cool. (it hasn't worked out so great yet)
Pissed (fucking pissed. Ha!) I opened the door, shut my eyes and yelled "CUSS WORDS! JUST LET UM FLOW! MOTHER FUCKER SHIT GODDAMN ASSHOLE!"
I heard a gasp and someone started laughing. When I opened my eyes I saw 7 children and their parents waiting at the bus stop. Oh, and a ghost white Quint with his mouth hanging open staring at me.
"Oops!" I said."Sorry."
Quint started to shake his head and turned for the horrified parents. I could hear him explaining about my awful, untreatable case of touretts.
It's not my fault I like to swear. I just do. I'm not stupid, I know I can't swear all the time (yes officer. I just didn't see the fucking stop sign.) And I honestly try not to around kids. (its not my fault there's a bus stop outside my house.) When my stepson Payton is here I have to pay him if i swear. It's a quarter for all words except motherfucker...that one will cost ya 50 cents. (last time my sister Danielle was here she handed him a 20 and said "that should cover me for a couple hours." MY SISTER RULES.)
Like I said, when we were kids we were not aloud to swear. Not like that's uncommon, but my dad seriously did all the time so it was hard not to copy him.(I called him a cocksucker once as a very small child. I had no idea what it ment. All I knew is my dad said it ALL THE TIME.)
My stepmom Linda especially didn't like it. She used words like "turkey" or "silly goose" to describe dumbasses. We all thought this was stupid. When we were out of the parents earshot, pretty much all we did was curse.
"Goddamn it Andy, your a fucking retard."
"Shut the fuck up Alli. your a bitch."
"Buzzo is a mother fucking dumbass."
"Brent sucks. He's such a fucking Asshole."
"Molly is a shithead cunt."
You get the picture.
One day Brent and I decided it was a really good idea to beat the shit out of each other. With each punch, kick, and Indian burn we swore at each other like sailors. When Linda caught us we thought our (silly) goose was cooked.
But it wasn't. She rjust sighed heavily.
"I'm tired of this."she said."do whatever you want. You turkeys never listen anyways." And turned to leave. Brent and I sat there stunned.
"Can we swear?" Brent asked.
"Can I stab him?" I asked.
Linda frowned looked at us and said "swearing yes, stabbing no. I don't care anymore." And walked away.
Brent and I grinned at each other like idiots. (like fucking idiots! LIKE FUCKING IDIOTS! We can swear!)
"Go upstairs and yell at me through the vent." Brent said (for some reason we all loved to talk through the vent but the parents never allowed it. They were so BORING.)
"Awesome." I said and ran upstairs.
I got to the vent and I laid down on my tummy,my chin resting on my crossed arms. I was so excited. Let the games begin!
"Hello bitch." Brent said.
"Hi Dick." I said.
"Asshole!"
"Dumbass!"
"Fucker!"
"Stupid fucker!"
"Dumb fucker!"
"Shithead!"
"Shit eater!"
"Dickhead!"
Silence.
"I said dickhead!"
More silence.
"Brent?" I said "its your turn I said dickhead!"
Totally silent.
So I drew in a deep breath and yelled "MOTHER FUCKER!"
And I was picked up off the floor and dragged ten feet to my room and swiftly thrown in.
What was happening? Whats going on? I got to my feet and turned around to see what happened bumping right into my dad.
"Oh shit." I said. Slapping my hand across my mouth.
"Ya think?" My dad said."now, do you mind telling me WHAT THE FUCK YOU THINK YOUR DOING?"
I was going to die, I could see that now. This must of been why Brent wasn't answering. Poor guy. Dad had gotten him first. I shrugged my shoulders looked my dad and said "I don't know."
My dad hated this answer.
He was convinced only known liars, thieves and useless people (otherwise know as his children) used this phrase. And only when they were guilty.
"Ok, maybe you can tell me why you were screaming swear words down the vent." My dad said.
"Linda said we could." I told him.
My dad just stared at me.
"She did dad. It's true. Ask Brent." (If he was still alive that is.)
My dad just kept staring at me.
"Really. Just ask him." I said.
My dad sighed and sat down on my bed."when I walked in, I saw Brent. He said you've been like this all day and that you made Linda cry. I don't know what I'm going to do with you Molly, but Brent said next time he won't let you get so out of hand."
Who said what now?
I couldn't speak. GODDAMN IT THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE.
My dad slowly got up, walked to my door and said "don't come out of here until tomorrow. No dinner. Only bathroom. You speak, its two days. Do you understand?"
I nodded tears welling up in my eyes. It wasn't fair. I didn't even do anything wrong. But in my house you were guilty until proven innocent.
I layed down on my bed and plotted Brents demise.
And then, faintly through my bedroom vent, I heard laughing and then a stupid assholes voice say "how's it going dumbass?"
Fuck.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
happy day
Can't talk
Got dogs to walk
And they won't let me wait.
Thing is, picking up shit be the best part of my day.
I woke up late
With a huge headache
And forgot to dry my clothes.
So I had to wear Quintys things
And forgot a belt around the shorts.
My pants fell down in safeway
And a man said "do it again!"
Ran out of gas on the way to work
And while going home did it AGAIN.
(FUCK.)
I got bit by a dog
And like 20 mosquitos
I fell and hit my head.
I broke my phone
I ate old food
And found dog puke in my bed.
(Did I sleep with that?)
I lost 50$
It blew out the window
While speeding down the highway.
I cleaned for 6 hours
Homeowner came home
Said "No no! Now redo it my way!"
(Bitch.)
So now I'm home
And the dogs are HYPED
and I really do have to go.
And I cannot wait
To go to sleep
In my gross, dirty, puke ass home.
(On the couch. Fucking dogs.)
Got dogs to walk
And they won't let me wait.
Thing is, picking up shit be the best part of my day.
I woke up late
With a huge headache
And forgot to dry my clothes.
So I had to wear Quintys things
And forgot a belt around the shorts.
My pants fell down in safeway
And a man said "do it again!"
Ran out of gas on the way to work
And while going home did it AGAIN.
(FUCK.)
I got bit by a dog
And like 20 mosquitos
I fell and hit my head.
I broke my phone
I ate old food
And found dog puke in my bed.
(Did I sleep with that?)
I lost 50$
It blew out the window
While speeding down the highway.
I cleaned for 6 hours
Homeowner came home
Said "No no! Now redo it my way!"
(Bitch.)
So now I'm home
And the dogs are HYPED
and I really do have to go.
And I cannot wait
To go to sleep
In my gross, dirty, puke ass home.
(On the couch. Fucking dogs.)
return to sender
Hey, did I ever tell you the time I went to the mall and LOST MY KEYS? It, I can assure you, wasn't any fun. I'm pretty sure I had been in almost every store and goddamn it...I guess I had to just start where I left off. What else could I do.
But 2 hours later, with no keys, super anxiety, a mall full of dumb useless bitches who were of no help, and vomit rising in my throat, I went back to my car to cry and cry and cry. Fortunately for me, the doors were unlocked.
So I got in.
And the keys were in the ignition.
It's not that I'm stupid I just don't think sometimes. I just run on auto pilot and things just happen. Jeez. And anyway it seems when I put my mind to something evil takes over and I leave a wake of tears and sadness behind me.
And sometimes....its super funny.
We moved to Washington when I was 7. Or 6. Which ever one you are in the 1st grade.(like I fucking know) Anyway we moved from Illinois. My sister Buzzo (her name was Danielle but supposively my dad lost a bet with his friend named Buzz and had to name his next born kid after him. Since she turned out to be a chick, he nicknamed her Buzzo. Whatever. My dad also told me our dogs were aliens, elephants would trample him if he took his necklace off, and that our babysitter was a witch who if we disobeyed would turn us into pumpkins. We spent the entire time hiding in the bathroom with buckets full of water to kill this fucking bitch.[wizard of oz yo] So basically my dads a liar. And this my friends is another story for another time.)
Where was I? Oh yeah so Buzzo was all bummed cause she was leaving her best friend Jennifer behind and it was sad. Whatever.
This Jennifer was a bitch. After we moved she never wrote Buzzo back or returned any of her calls. Buzzo was heart broken. And this set me up for the best prank ever. Seriously.
It was April 1st (April fools day) and like all good Americans I set out to hurt the ones I loved.
I stole an envelope from my stepmom and snuck up to my room. I shared it with my sister Alli, so i had to hurry before she came back in and ratted me out. (We were all born tattle talers, it was the only way to get anywhere in this family.) I got out some of my school paper and set down to write a very sweet, very apologetic, very fake letter to my dear sister Buzzo from her dear best friend Jennifer.
It was brilliant. In my best penmanship "Jennifer" told Buzzo all about school, their other friends, and her dog Fucker (I cant remember its name and I have literally been sitting here for 20 minutes trying to remember and its not coming so Fucker it is) "Jennifer" apologized for her absence and lack of communication and asked if they could pick up where they left off. RADICAL.
I patted myself on the back and put the letter inside the envelope. I snuck into my sisters room and found her stupid Hello Kitty address book and found bitch ass Jennifers address, wrote it and ours on the envelope and plotted out how to get a stamp.
It had to look authentic or this shit wasnt gonna fly. However this part was not going to be easy. My stepmom kept the stamps in her purse, and my stepmoms purse was NOT TO BE TOUCHED.
It was amazing inside these bags. (you dont want to know how many purses my mom has, lets just say, they have their own room now. If more than one child is home over night, the purses get the room, we get the couch.) There was a place for everything and everything was placed so neatly inside. It didnt take long to find the stamps, it only took anytime because at every noise I jumped and screamed "I wasnt doing anything!" The woman had a way of scaring the living shit out of you. I could not be caught. If we ever did anything wrong or were just about to, she would threaten to bare butt spank us in front of God and everybody. Bare butt? In front of everybody? No fucking way. In this family you would never live that down. Fuck the spank, and (forgive me) God but they had nothing on what my brothers and sisters would do to me later. I had to be CAREFUL.
I sprinted like I was posessed (i got away with it!) back to my room and pulled out a letter my mom had written me (She still lived in Illinois) I needed to duplicate the red stamp thing over the stamp on every sent letter (I'm telling you, I am evil.) I, being an avid collector of anything office supply related, had the perfect red pen and got to work.
So brilliant. So amazing. I sat back, looked at my work and smiled my buck toothed grin. (the one that my Dad would cringe at and say "That one needs braces Linda. Linda!") I ran out to the street, down to the mail box and waited for the mailman.
She was running late, of course. Stupid bitch! I thought. How was I supposed to pull this off if she didnt hurry the fuck up? My stepmom and our dog Murphy (she was a toy poodle. When I was in high school I cut her hair into a mohawk and dyed it purple with food coloring and Linda refused to walk her down the street anymore. "What will the neighbors think?" she said. Um that we're cool? God Linda.)took a walk everyday to the mailbox at 4 oclock and and it was almost 3:45.
"Fuck!" i said freaking out. I couldnt just leave the letter in the mailbox, the stupid late mail lady would take it thinking it was too be sent out. I had to put it in AFTER she had delivered the mail.
"Whatcha doin Molly?" said my shithead little brother Andy walking up to me. (I swear to God he always had boogers in his nose and milk crusted all over his face. God he was gross.)
"Nothing. Go the fuck away." I said growing more and more anxious by the minute.
"You swore Molly. I'm telling!" and he ran off to get my stepmom.
Double fuck.
Now she was going to come out here sooner and she was gonna catch me with the letter! I had to think quick!
So I ran in after Andy and got to Linda first.
"Linda, I got the mail for you. There was only this letter in it, I think its for Buzzo." and I shoved Andy down the hall.
"Oh!" Linda said. "Look at this! Buzzo is going to be so happy!" And she set off to find my sister. With me on her heels.
Buzzo WAS excited. She squealed like a fucking pig and ripped into the letter like it was a fresh trof of slop. She goobled up every word and read some of it out loud to us.
"I'm sorry I havent written, 3rd grade has me so busy!"
"Did you know that Justin and Jeffery arnt friends anymore?" (to which Buzzo cryed out 'like no way! they are like totally best friends!' she was a self proclaimed valley girl. GAY.)
"It was awful. I will miss Fucker. But mom says he was old and it was his time to go. Oh and by the way she says hi!"
My God it was inbearable. I had to plan my timing right though. This was going to be my day in the sun. When Buzzo got to the end of the letter she folded it up looked at Linda and said "Like, I cant believe it! She finally wrote me back!" and Linda gave her a big hug.
And thats when the evil took over in me and I yelled "APRIL FOOLS!"
They both looked at me and Linda said "April Fools what?"
"The letter..." I said beaming from person to person. (a crowd had gathered and by now Brent, Alli, and Shithead Andy were there too)"I wrote it! I got the envelope and wrote the red stamp thing in with my pen and i found her address in Buzzos address book!" and I waited for their praise.
My sister started to scream and lunged at me. I jumped out of the way yelling "I got you! I got you! April Fools!" She clipped the back of my leg with hers and we crashed to the floor.
She started pummeling me like she wanted to kill me. Alli started to cry. Brent shouted "punch her in the face!" Andy yelled "Can i have a snack?" And Linda reached down and pulled me up by my shirt.
"Buzzo ENOUGH!" my stepmom said and Buzzo stopped right away. She was bawling and looked like she was going to kill me. At that moment I was happy Linda was there, she was the only thing keeping me alive.
"Molly, I cannot begin to tell you how mean what you did was." Linda said her voice starting to shake.
"But it was only a joke." I whinned. Wasnt anyone going to see how rad my joke was? I mean, even if it was a little on the evil side, couldnt they see the magic of it all?
"Its not funny. Jokes are funny." Linda said.
"Im sorry." I said.
"Well, if you were sorry you wouldnt of done it." Linda said. (this is what she always said, and what the fuck did it even mean? It didnt make sense.)
"I wont do it again." I said.
"No, you wont." Linda said. "But you need to be punished and I think Buzzo should be able to pick the punishment."
Wait, What?
I started to squirm to get away but Linda tightened her hold on me. I may be evil, but I wasnt stupid. Linda looked at Buzzo. Buzzo looked at Brent, Alli and Andy. They each nodded and Buzzo turned around to Linda and said,
"Bare butt spanking. I like, want you to bare butt spank her in front of God and everybody."
I closed my eyes and sighed.
I was like, fucked.
But 2 hours later, with no keys, super anxiety, a mall full of dumb useless bitches who were of no help, and vomit rising in my throat, I went back to my car to cry and cry and cry. Fortunately for me, the doors were unlocked.
So I got in.
And the keys were in the ignition.
It's not that I'm stupid I just don't think sometimes. I just run on auto pilot and things just happen. Jeez. And anyway it seems when I put my mind to something evil takes over and I leave a wake of tears and sadness behind me.
And sometimes....its super funny.
We moved to Washington when I was 7. Or 6. Which ever one you are in the 1st grade.(like I fucking know) Anyway we moved from Illinois. My sister Buzzo (her name was Danielle but supposively my dad lost a bet with his friend named Buzz and had to name his next born kid after him. Since she turned out to be a chick, he nicknamed her Buzzo. Whatever. My dad also told me our dogs were aliens, elephants would trample him if he took his necklace off, and that our babysitter was a witch who if we disobeyed would turn us into pumpkins. We spent the entire time hiding in the bathroom with buckets full of water to kill this fucking bitch.[wizard of oz yo] So basically my dads a liar. And this my friends is another story for another time.)
Where was I? Oh yeah so Buzzo was all bummed cause she was leaving her best friend Jennifer behind and it was sad. Whatever.
This Jennifer was a bitch. After we moved she never wrote Buzzo back or returned any of her calls. Buzzo was heart broken. And this set me up for the best prank ever. Seriously.
It was April 1st (April fools day) and like all good Americans I set out to hurt the ones I loved.
I stole an envelope from my stepmom and snuck up to my room. I shared it with my sister Alli, so i had to hurry before she came back in and ratted me out. (We were all born tattle talers, it was the only way to get anywhere in this family.) I got out some of my school paper and set down to write a very sweet, very apologetic, very fake letter to my dear sister Buzzo from her dear best friend Jennifer.
It was brilliant. In my best penmanship "Jennifer" told Buzzo all about school, their other friends, and her dog Fucker (I cant remember its name and I have literally been sitting here for 20 minutes trying to remember and its not coming so Fucker it is) "Jennifer" apologized for her absence and lack of communication and asked if they could pick up where they left off. RADICAL.
I patted myself on the back and put the letter inside the envelope. I snuck into my sisters room and found her stupid Hello Kitty address book and found bitch ass Jennifers address, wrote it and ours on the envelope and plotted out how to get a stamp.
It had to look authentic or this shit wasnt gonna fly. However this part was not going to be easy. My stepmom kept the stamps in her purse, and my stepmoms purse was NOT TO BE TOUCHED.
It was amazing inside these bags. (you dont want to know how many purses my mom has, lets just say, they have their own room now. If more than one child is home over night, the purses get the room, we get the couch.) There was a place for everything and everything was placed so neatly inside. It didnt take long to find the stamps, it only took anytime because at every noise I jumped and screamed "I wasnt doing anything!" The woman had a way of scaring the living shit out of you. I could not be caught. If we ever did anything wrong or were just about to, she would threaten to bare butt spank us in front of God and everybody. Bare butt? In front of everybody? No fucking way. In this family you would never live that down. Fuck the spank, and (forgive me) God but they had nothing on what my brothers and sisters would do to me later. I had to be CAREFUL.
I sprinted like I was posessed (i got away with it!) back to my room and pulled out a letter my mom had written me (She still lived in Illinois) I needed to duplicate the red stamp thing over the stamp on every sent letter (I'm telling you, I am evil.) I, being an avid collector of anything office supply related, had the perfect red pen and got to work.
So brilliant. So amazing. I sat back, looked at my work and smiled my buck toothed grin. (the one that my Dad would cringe at and say "That one needs braces Linda. Linda!") I ran out to the street, down to the mail box and waited for the mailman.
She was running late, of course. Stupid bitch! I thought. How was I supposed to pull this off if she didnt hurry the fuck up? My stepmom and our dog Murphy (she was a toy poodle. When I was in high school I cut her hair into a mohawk and dyed it purple with food coloring and Linda refused to walk her down the street anymore. "What will the neighbors think?" she said. Um that we're cool? God Linda.)took a walk everyday to the mailbox at 4 oclock and and it was almost 3:45.
"Fuck!" i said freaking out. I couldnt just leave the letter in the mailbox, the stupid late mail lady would take it thinking it was too be sent out. I had to put it in AFTER she had delivered the mail.
"Whatcha doin Molly?" said my shithead little brother Andy walking up to me. (I swear to God he always had boogers in his nose and milk crusted all over his face. God he was gross.)
"Nothing. Go the fuck away." I said growing more and more anxious by the minute.
"You swore Molly. I'm telling!" and he ran off to get my stepmom.
Double fuck.
Now she was going to come out here sooner and she was gonna catch me with the letter! I had to think quick!
So I ran in after Andy and got to Linda first.
"Linda, I got the mail for you. There was only this letter in it, I think its for Buzzo." and I shoved Andy down the hall.
"Oh!" Linda said. "Look at this! Buzzo is going to be so happy!" And she set off to find my sister. With me on her heels.
Buzzo WAS excited. She squealed like a fucking pig and ripped into the letter like it was a fresh trof of slop. She goobled up every word and read some of it out loud to us.
"I'm sorry I havent written, 3rd grade has me so busy!"
"Did you know that Justin and Jeffery arnt friends anymore?" (to which Buzzo cryed out 'like no way! they are like totally best friends!' she was a self proclaimed valley girl. GAY.)
"It was awful. I will miss Fucker. But mom says he was old and it was his time to go. Oh and by the way she says hi!"
My God it was inbearable. I had to plan my timing right though. This was going to be my day in the sun. When Buzzo got to the end of the letter she folded it up looked at Linda and said "Like, I cant believe it! She finally wrote me back!" and Linda gave her a big hug.
And thats when the evil took over in me and I yelled "APRIL FOOLS!"
They both looked at me and Linda said "April Fools what?"
"The letter..." I said beaming from person to person. (a crowd had gathered and by now Brent, Alli, and Shithead Andy were there too)"I wrote it! I got the envelope and wrote the red stamp thing in with my pen and i found her address in Buzzos address book!" and I waited for their praise.
My sister started to scream and lunged at me. I jumped out of the way yelling "I got you! I got you! April Fools!" She clipped the back of my leg with hers and we crashed to the floor.
She started pummeling me like she wanted to kill me. Alli started to cry. Brent shouted "punch her in the face!" Andy yelled "Can i have a snack?" And Linda reached down and pulled me up by my shirt.
"Buzzo ENOUGH!" my stepmom said and Buzzo stopped right away. She was bawling and looked like she was going to kill me. At that moment I was happy Linda was there, she was the only thing keeping me alive.
"Molly, I cannot begin to tell you how mean what you did was." Linda said her voice starting to shake.
"But it was only a joke." I whinned. Wasnt anyone going to see how rad my joke was? I mean, even if it was a little on the evil side, couldnt they see the magic of it all?
"Its not funny. Jokes are funny." Linda said.
"Im sorry." I said.
"Well, if you were sorry you wouldnt of done it." Linda said. (this is what she always said, and what the fuck did it even mean? It didnt make sense.)
"I wont do it again." I said.
"No, you wont." Linda said. "But you need to be punished and I think Buzzo should be able to pick the punishment."
Wait, What?
I started to squirm to get away but Linda tightened her hold on me. I may be evil, but I wasnt stupid. Linda looked at Buzzo. Buzzo looked at Brent, Alli and Andy. They each nodded and Buzzo turned around to Linda and said,
"Bare butt spanking. I like, want you to bare butt spank her in front of God and everybody."
I closed my eyes and sighed.
I was like, fucked.
Monday, June 21, 2010
to be or not to be.
My nephew Jude is a huge liar. When I told his parents this, my brother looked at me and said "the child is two Molly."
I fail to see his point. The kid flat out LIES. When I asked him what color my shirt was he smiled his beautiful smile (this child is gorgeous...I'm not being biased...he really is) and said "lellow." My shirt was bright blue. When I caught him squatting behind the couch grunting I said "Jude are you pooping?" He looked up at me and grunted "no." As the smell of shit wafted up from his diaper. When I asked him if he would like some cheese he said "yes!" When I asked him if he was gonna give it to the dog, he said "No." And when I handed it to him he threw it at the dog and smiled at me.
Um....liar. He told me some kid at daycare bit his foot (he fell) that the dog stole his sandwich (it was inside a Thomas the tank engine toy) and that the ball I gave him for his birthday was from my brothers friend Josh.(when I tryed to remind him it was from me he looked at me directly in the eyes and said "NO.")
LIAR.
But what can ya do.
He's not my kid and truth is, its kind of funny. Q says "he's not lying Molly. And if he doesn't know the answer you help him that's your job. You don't point and say 'LIAR!'"
My job? Nah. I'm Auntie. All we do is play and put diapers on the dog. My job is to let him have fun. My job is to love him. Plus, I want to be his favorite soooooo I'm not about to go being bossy.
Over and over again I hear "you'd be a good mom Molly, your so good with your dogs." I am good with my dogs. I'll give them this. But they are also very, very spoiled. I have a serious problem with it. I'm pretty sure if they could talk people would cringe. They would probably swear, scream and lash out at me in public. If allowed off leash they would run away, shit in peoples yards, chase cats up trees and steal children's play things screaming "Mine!" They hate dog food and will literally starve themselves until I give them people food. On leash they pull, dive under your feet to trip you, try to eat very gross things and have no respect for the word "NO!"
AND I THINK IT'S CUTE.
So...I'm not all that sure I'd be such a good mom. With dogs you can get away with that shit. I've woken up more than once in a dogpile on the kitchen floor with Cheetos stuck to my face because the night before a vodka soaked Molly ripped open a large bag spilled them on the floor, scrambled down and yelled "Let's eat!" And me and the pups gulped them up.
And well, I just don't know if I want little kids. I love them and I enjoy their company but I also love the life I have. I love my relationship with my dogs and everyone keeps telling me if I have a baby, that will change. The best part of my day is the time I spend with my dogs. My heart has been filled, blessed and broken by the dogs I've loved and lost.
When I was a kid I begged for a dog and in 6th grade my stepmom finally let me have one. I named her Regi and we were BEST FRIENDS. She was the smartest, most amazing dog and I cannot thank or love my stepmother more for giving me her. When I moved out, she stayed hm with my parents, and it was heartbreaking.
My next dog, Kincaid, was an epileptic that I got as a puppy when I was 19. I fought over what was right and how to care for him. We spent night after night in the doggie ER with me begging god to let him live and tell me what to do. At 2 the vet suggested I put him down, his epilepsy was that aggressive.(He would have cluster seizures at least once a week.) A friend told me about holistic medicine and accupuncture and it saved his life. Kade stopped having seizures every week and he could live like a normal dog. (he was down to only 1 or 2 seizures a year!) My regret, and I tell you this as I cry nonstop, is I choose to let him die. At 10yrs. old, I stopped Kades accupuncture and let him eat whatever he wanted. It stems from the last time I took him in to the vet. Kade screamed like he was in pain, lashed out at the vet and hid in my lap.(this was a 100lb dog). I couldn't watch him go through it anymore. He fought and struggled his whole life and he was the happiest, sweetest boy in the world despite that. When I saw him cry....it was so unlike him...I thought maybe he was done. He had never complained before even with as much pain as he was in. He just smiled and wagged his tail through it. Maybe kades life should be about him now. Maybe he didn't want to do this anymore? I didn't know. So I choose to let him be vet free.
Then on Christmas eve he seized himself unconscious and I had him put down Christmas day. I will never forgive myself for that decision to stop accupuncture and I hate myself for his pain. I miss him everyday and I hope he forgives me.
I got my boy Max when Kade was 7 I think. When I saw Max I knew he was mine. This little orange baby pitbull was tied to a fire hydrant with a note that said "I need loving." Done and done. The second I looked in his eyes I saw my soulmate. He was the love of my life. Max was the happiest, fattest, jolliest boy ever. He was what I always wanted. When he was 6, he got sick. So sick. I spent 10,000$, refinanced my house and searched for a cure or Fuck it, an answer to what it even fucking was! 6 months later I had to make the decision to put him down as he could barely even stand or see. But to the very end when he heard my voice he would wag his tail and lick my hand. I stayed at the vet for an hour after he died thanking god Max was out of pain but wondering why the Fuck I had to lose my son.
My girl Abbey was the most beautiful solid white American bulldog I've ever seen. I got her when I was doing shelter wk in Olympia. She was 11months old and set to die in 2 days...there was no reason. That's life for pound babies, but I couldn't let it happen. Max at the time was the same age and when they met it was love at first sight. It was amazing. When Max died, Abbey mourned him. 9 months later her liver failed and she died. Personally, I think she died of a broken heart. I miss my white angel, but I am so happy they are together again.
I got my Joey 5 days after Max died and he was a life saver for me. He is this gorgeous black/brown pit I got from an awful breeder. He needed me as much as I needed him. I was sad and lost and my heart was broken. Joe was mistreated, abused and had horrible parasites and worms. He needed love and I needed someone to love. We bonded and now we are inseparable. He is my baby. He is my life.
A week after Abbey died I got my Alabama. I saw her fat little puppy body wiggling around at the pound and said "that's her." I had to sit and wait 4 hrs till Quint got there because ,of course, I forgot my wallet.(go Molly!) (Oh and thank you Quint I love you.) Alabama LOVES people. She is the sweetest cuddlebear with a heart of gold. Joey fell in love with Alabama instantly and they are just like Max and Abbey were. They even look alike, except Alabama is just a little smaller and wider than Joe. Goddamn are they cute.
They are the very best part of me.
Quint says I will know when its right to have kids. And if I don't know yet, I'm not ready. Um....I'm fucking 35....when is this suppose to happen? But when I look in my doggies eyes I think, what if what everyone says is right? What if I won't love them the same? What if I don't have this connection with them anymore? I can't risk that. And I realize I may never, ever be ready.
So, I guess Jude (the liar) is what I get for now. And you know what?
I can live with that.
I fail to see his point. The kid flat out LIES. When I asked him what color my shirt was he smiled his beautiful smile (this child is gorgeous...I'm not being biased...he really is) and said "lellow." My shirt was bright blue. When I caught him squatting behind the couch grunting I said "Jude are you pooping?" He looked up at me and grunted "no." As the smell of shit wafted up from his diaper. When I asked him if he would like some cheese he said "yes!" When I asked him if he was gonna give it to the dog, he said "No." And when I handed it to him he threw it at the dog and smiled at me.
Um....liar. He told me some kid at daycare bit his foot (he fell) that the dog stole his sandwich (it was inside a Thomas the tank engine toy) and that the ball I gave him for his birthday was from my brothers friend Josh.(when I tryed to remind him it was from me he looked at me directly in the eyes and said "NO.")
LIAR.
But what can ya do.
He's not my kid and truth is, its kind of funny. Q says "he's not lying Molly. And if he doesn't know the answer you help him that's your job. You don't point and say 'LIAR!'"
My job? Nah. I'm Auntie. All we do is play and put diapers on the dog. My job is to let him have fun. My job is to love him. Plus, I want to be his favorite soooooo I'm not about to go being bossy.
Over and over again I hear "you'd be a good mom Molly, your so good with your dogs." I am good with my dogs. I'll give them this. But they are also very, very spoiled. I have a serious problem with it. I'm pretty sure if they could talk people would cringe. They would probably swear, scream and lash out at me in public. If allowed off leash they would run away, shit in peoples yards, chase cats up trees and steal children's play things screaming "Mine!" They hate dog food and will literally starve themselves until I give them people food. On leash they pull, dive under your feet to trip you, try to eat very gross things and have no respect for the word "NO!"
AND I THINK IT'S CUTE.
So...I'm not all that sure I'd be such a good mom. With dogs you can get away with that shit. I've woken up more than once in a dogpile on the kitchen floor with Cheetos stuck to my face because the night before a vodka soaked Molly ripped open a large bag spilled them on the floor, scrambled down and yelled "Let's eat!" And me and the pups gulped them up.
And well, I just don't know if I want little kids. I love them and I enjoy their company but I also love the life I have. I love my relationship with my dogs and everyone keeps telling me if I have a baby, that will change. The best part of my day is the time I spend with my dogs. My heart has been filled, blessed and broken by the dogs I've loved and lost.
When I was a kid I begged for a dog and in 6th grade my stepmom finally let me have one. I named her Regi and we were BEST FRIENDS. She was the smartest, most amazing dog and I cannot thank or love my stepmother more for giving me her. When I moved out, she stayed hm with my parents, and it was heartbreaking.
My next dog, Kincaid, was an epileptic that I got as a puppy when I was 19. I fought over what was right and how to care for him. We spent night after night in the doggie ER with me begging god to let him live and tell me what to do. At 2 the vet suggested I put him down, his epilepsy was that aggressive.(He would have cluster seizures at least once a week.) A friend told me about holistic medicine and accupuncture and it saved his life. Kade stopped having seizures every week and he could live like a normal dog. (he was down to only 1 or 2 seizures a year!) My regret, and I tell you this as I cry nonstop, is I choose to let him die. At 10yrs. old, I stopped Kades accupuncture and let him eat whatever he wanted. It stems from the last time I took him in to the vet. Kade screamed like he was in pain, lashed out at the vet and hid in my lap.(this was a 100lb dog). I couldn't watch him go through it anymore. He fought and struggled his whole life and he was the happiest, sweetest boy in the world despite that. When I saw him cry....it was so unlike him...I thought maybe he was done. He had never complained before even with as much pain as he was in. He just smiled and wagged his tail through it. Maybe kades life should be about him now. Maybe he didn't want to do this anymore? I didn't know. So I choose to let him be vet free.
Then on Christmas eve he seized himself unconscious and I had him put down Christmas day. I will never forgive myself for that decision to stop accupuncture and I hate myself for his pain. I miss him everyday and I hope he forgives me.
I got my boy Max when Kade was 7 I think. When I saw Max I knew he was mine. This little orange baby pitbull was tied to a fire hydrant with a note that said "I need loving." Done and done. The second I looked in his eyes I saw my soulmate. He was the love of my life. Max was the happiest, fattest, jolliest boy ever. He was what I always wanted. When he was 6, he got sick. So sick. I spent 10,000$, refinanced my house and searched for a cure or Fuck it, an answer to what it even fucking was! 6 months later I had to make the decision to put him down as he could barely even stand or see. But to the very end when he heard my voice he would wag his tail and lick my hand. I stayed at the vet for an hour after he died thanking god Max was out of pain but wondering why the Fuck I had to lose my son.
My girl Abbey was the most beautiful solid white American bulldog I've ever seen. I got her when I was doing shelter wk in Olympia. She was 11months old and set to die in 2 days...there was no reason. That's life for pound babies, but I couldn't let it happen. Max at the time was the same age and when they met it was love at first sight. It was amazing. When Max died, Abbey mourned him. 9 months later her liver failed and she died. Personally, I think she died of a broken heart. I miss my white angel, but I am so happy they are together again.
I got my Joey 5 days after Max died and he was a life saver for me. He is this gorgeous black/brown pit I got from an awful breeder. He needed me as much as I needed him. I was sad and lost and my heart was broken. Joe was mistreated, abused and had horrible parasites and worms. He needed love and I needed someone to love. We bonded and now we are inseparable. He is my baby. He is my life.
A week after Abbey died I got my Alabama. I saw her fat little puppy body wiggling around at the pound and said "that's her." I had to sit and wait 4 hrs till Quint got there because ,of course, I forgot my wallet.(go Molly!) (Oh and thank you Quint I love you.) Alabama LOVES people. She is the sweetest cuddlebear with a heart of gold. Joey fell in love with Alabama instantly and they are just like Max and Abbey were. They even look alike, except Alabama is just a little smaller and wider than Joe. Goddamn are they cute.
They are the very best part of me.
Quint says I will know when its right to have kids. And if I don't know yet, I'm not ready. Um....I'm fucking 35....when is this suppose to happen? But when I look in my doggies eyes I think, what if what everyone says is right? What if I won't love them the same? What if I don't have this connection with them anymore? I can't risk that. And I realize I may never, ever be ready.
So, I guess Jude (the liar) is what I get for now. And you know what?
I can live with that.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
3 things that pissed me off yesterday.
1. Parents that give their small children cotton candy then yell at them repeatedly for acting like cracked out monkeys. Wtf did they expect? its straight up sugar.(oh and especially at a baseball game where they have only this small place to geek out. I watched this poor kid shake like an epileptic and blow this fucking whistle over and over for like 20 minutes. His mom kept SCREAMING "brandon calm down! I swear to god you better!" Poor kid. STUPID LADY.)
2. People who can't talk on a cell phone and drive at the same time. You idiots. How is it even possible? It's not like your doing long division....your holding a small thing to your ear. Can you honestly not talk and drive at the same time? Because you are so stupid, now there is a LAW against it. Funny how drinking hot coffee or putting on make-up or having a SCREAMING baby or a FUCKING TV in your car is a ok. I hate you.
3. People who buy dogs and then get pissed off and give them to the pound because they
A. Bark
B. Grow
C. Need attention
D. Exist
E. Destroy shit (dogs chew and dig...who doesn't know that. YOU HAVE TO TRAIN YOUR DOG. IT'S NOT A NEW CONCEPT.)
F. Acts like its breed and not a different one. Do some fucking reserch first. Pitbulls are not labs. Golden retrievers are not Chihuahuas. Get a book and LEARN TO READ.
G. Gets pregnant.
These people should not get a dog. Everyone knows that. So why do they? Because THEY ARE STUPID.
Ha.
2. People who can't talk on a cell phone and drive at the same time. You idiots. How is it even possible? It's not like your doing long division....your holding a small thing to your ear. Can you honestly not talk and drive at the same time? Because you are so stupid, now there is a LAW against it. Funny how drinking hot coffee or putting on make-up or having a SCREAMING baby or a FUCKING TV in your car is a ok. I hate you.
3. People who buy dogs and then get pissed off and give them to the pound because they
A. Bark
B. Grow
C. Need attention
D. Exist
E. Destroy shit (dogs chew and dig...who doesn't know that. YOU HAVE TO TRAIN YOUR DOG. IT'S NOT A NEW CONCEPT.)
F. Acts like its breed and not a different one. Do some fucking reserch first. Pitbulls are not labs. Golden retrievers are not Chihuahuas. Get a book and LEARN TO READ.
G. Gets pregnant.
These people should not get a dog. Everyone knows that. So why do they? Because THEY ARE STUPID.
Ha.
Friday, June 18, 2010
10 reasons i know i am a dumbass.
#1. When I was a kid my dad told me so.
#2. I went to the store today and forgot my wallet. Didn't realize this till I had a cart full of food at check-out. Left, went home to get it and went back to the store. LEAVING MY WALLET AT HOME AGAIN.
#3. I pay 70$ a month for cable and only watch channel 11.
#4. Everytime I drink Jager I get sick. And everytime I drink beer I yell "let's do Jager bombs!"
#5. Because I have run with sissors in high heels in the rain when its dark and I'm clumsy. Twice.(LONG STORY.)
#6. I'm allergic to milk and I'm drinking a milkshake right now and I have no toilet paper (see #2.) And I'm really gonna need it.
#7. Nicole told me so.(but f her cause it wasn't my fault I left my front door wide open with the house keys in the front yard and woke up in a pile of dogs on the kichen floor and still can't find one of my shoes. She was the one who said "I bet I can drink more than you." Yeah right.) (She totally did.) (Bitch.)
#8. When I was a kid I stuck my head through the bars on the back of my dads chair and it got stuck. When I got it out, I did it again. It was stuck for 2 hrs.
#9. I ran around like a fucking retard trying to find my phone. I then used MY PHONE to call it and sat there waiting to hear it ring.
#10. At age 34 I got kicked out of the Twilight movie New Moon. Yes, seriously.
#2. I went to the store today and forgot my wallet. Didn't realize this till I had a cart full of food at check-out. Left, went home to get it and went back to the store. LEAVING MY WALLET AT HOME AGAIN.
#3. I pay 70$ a month for cable and only watch channel 11.
#4. Everytime I drink Jager I get sick. And everytime I drink beer I yell "let's do Jager bombs!"
#5. Because I have run with sissors in high heels in the rain when its dark and I'm clumsy. Twice.(LONG STORY.)
#6. I'm allergic to milk and I'm drinking a milkshake right now and I have no toilet paper (see #2.) And I'm really gonna need it.
#7. Nicole told me so.(but f her cause it wasn't my fault I left my front door wide open with the house keys in the front yard and woke up in a pile of dogs on the kichen floor and still can't find one of my shoes. She was the one who said "I bet I can drink more than you." Yeah right.) (She totally did.) (Bitch.)
#8. When I was a kid I stuck my head through the bars on the back of my dads chair and it got stuck. When I got it out, I did it again. It was stuck for 2 hrs.
#9. I ran around like a fucking retard trying to find my phone. I then used MY PHONE to call it and sat there waiting to hear it ring.
#10. At age 34 I got kicked out of the Twilight movie New Moon. Yes, seriously.
mrs. manners
I try to vote everytime I get a ballad in the mail but I usually don't know what I'm voting for. I just copy Quintys paper and mail it in. I guess he never knew I was doing this cause when he caught me he got all pissy. He says I'm not allowed to vote anymore unless I read the literature.
But I can't understand it. I tryed to read it and it all sounds stupid and they use big words I dont understand. (when i told quint that he said "Whos the stupid one?". I hate him.) Plus they vote on really dumb stuff. I'm over it.
So I try to make the world a better place by making sure people follow their manners. And most importantly, their table manners.
My dad is like a nazi about table manners. (that or he used it as an excuse to give us one more reason to fuck up so he could punish us. ) When we would sit down to dinner us kids would count off the "Checklist of fucking stupid rules dad made" to ourselves to avoid being killed.
"eat with your mouth closed"
"dont talk with food in your mouth"
"hold your fork right" (which was always followed by "what are you a caveman?" So stupid.)
"dont eat with your hands" (when he said this to me once i said "what do you want me to use my feet?" and my dad said "no your fork you smart ass" and whispered under his breath "useless fucking kids.")
"wear a shirt to the table" (long story.)
"no hats at the table"
"no slurping"
"no laughing, breathing, or being happy. Basically sit there and be as quiet as possible and your life will be spared." (or something like that)
Because god hates me, my seat was right next to my dads. It was the scariest place on earth. His favorite thing to do if you were not following one of his rules (sorry fucking stupid rules) was to stab your hand with his fork. (ok so before you guys go and have my dad arrested for child abuse its not like he stabbed you hard. i only bled like 5 different times and had only one fork sticking out of my hand as my dad yelled "EAT WITH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT! haha! I'm kidding, but he really did stab us.) And since there are 5 of us and the table was big, he couldnt always reach the sinner so he would just stab me.
"Brent close your mouth." stab mollys hand.
"Allison, we do not slurp our spagetti." stab mollys hand.
"Buzzo (Danielle) dont talk with food in your mouth." stab mollys hand.
"Andy, we wear clothes at the dinner table." stab mollys hand twice cause andy is a naked fucking idiot.
it was fucking hell.
So basically i think this is why i too have become a table manner nazi. I mean I really wanted to keep my hands.
Quint now lives in the world of fear. He sits down to eat and prepares himself for my scrutiny. i sit across from him and stare and bark orders as he trys to get some nurishment.
"why do you eat so loud? is your mouth closed?"
"god invented forks for a reason honey."
"I just don't get how you can't talk in between bites, not during them."
"Can we turn on the radio? It sounds like I'm eating dinner with a farm animal."
I always feel real bad about it afterwards but I can't help it. I know for a fact I follow my dads rules. (I no longer think of them as fucking stupid. He's a genius and we were disgusting. He started eating alone in the living room by the time I was in Jr high because "I should be able to enjoy my food, I payed for it. But that's impossible around you damn pigs." Feel the love!)
" why its not like you have excellent table manners."Q said when I asked him to follow my example.
Shocked I gasped "that's bullshit!"
"We shall see." He said and I waited for him to prove his point.
But he didnt (booyah! See?) and the days went on as usual ("how can you not hear yourself? Close your mouth!")
That is until we got in a fight over how to eat spaghetti.
"You DO NOT slurp it up!" I said shocked.
"How else can I eat it?" Quint said slurping away.
"Really? I have to explain? Jesus Quint your disgusting."
And then it happened.
He grabbed his phone and said "I didn't want to show you this. It gives me satisfaction just knowing I'm right but you seriously won't shut up so here..." he shoves his phone at me."press play."
Confused I did as I was told and the horror unfolded.
In the video I sat in a chair in front of the tv eating some soup. With each bite I got more and more Fucking disgusting. I slurped and smacked and when I laughed at something on tv, food shot out of my mouth and I did nothing.
I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and then on the chair. I burped and didn't excuse myself. I grunted at the dogs when they got too close.
"What was that?" I gasped.
"That's you telling the dogs to back up." Q said.
"I don't speak?"
"Oh no. But they understand."
And they did. It was horrifying.
"Am I always like this?" I asked tears welling up in my eyes.
" yes honey." Quint says and pats me on the back.
"I'm disgusting." I whisper and start to cry.
Quint laughs gives me a hug and says "yes honey. Yes you are."
He's an Asshole.
But I can't understand it. I tryed to read it and it all sounds stupid and they use big words I dont understand. (when i told quint that he said "Whos the stupid one?". I hate him.) Plus they vote on really dumb stuff. I'm over it.
So I try to make the world a better place by making sure people follow their manners. And most importantly, their table manners.
My dad is like a nazi about table manners. (that or he used it as an excuse to give us one more reason to fuck up so he could punish us. ) When we would sit down to dinner us kids would count off the "Checklist of fucking stupid rules dad made" to ourselves to avoid being killed.
"eat with your mouth closed"
"dont talk with food in your mouth"
"hold your fork right" (which was always followed by "what are you a caveman?" So stupid.)
"dont eat with your hands" (when he said this to me once i said "what do you want me to use my feet?" and my dad said "no your fork you smart ass" and whispered under his breath "useless fucking kids.")
"wear a shirt to the table" (long story.)
"no hats at the table"
"no slurping"
"no laughing, breathing, or being happy. Basically sit there and be as quiet as possible and your life will be spared." (or something like that)
Because god hates me, my seat was right next to my dads. It was the scariest place on earth. His favorite thing to do if you were not following one of his rules (sorry fucking stupid rules) was to stab your hand with his fork. (ok so before you guys go and have my dad arrested for child abuse its not like he stabbed you hard. i only bled like 5 different times and had only one fork sticking out of my hand as my dad yelled "EAT WITH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT! haha! I'm kidding, but he really did stab us.) And since there are 5 of us and the table was big, he couldnt always reach the sinner so he would just stab me.
"Brent close your mouth." stab mollys hand.
"Allison, we do not slurp our spagetti." stab mollys hand.
"Buzzo (Danielle) dont talk with food in your mouth." stab mollys hand.
"Andy, we wear clothes at the dinner table." stab mollys hand twice cause andy is a naked fucking idiot.
it was fucking hell.
So basically i think this is why i too have become a table manner nazi. I mean I really wanted to keep my hands.
Quint now lives in the world of fear. He sits down to eat and prepares himself for my scrutiny. i sit across from him and stare and bark orders as he trys to get some nurishment.
"why do you eat so loud? is your mouth closed?"
"god invented forks for a reason honey."
"I just don't get how you can't talk in between bites, not during them."
"Can we turn on the radio? It sounds like I'm eating dinner with a farm animal."
I always feel real bad about it afterwards but I can't help it. I know for a fact I follow my dads rules. (I no longer think of them as fucking stupid. He's a genius and we were disgusting. He started eating alone in the living room by the time I was in Jr high because "I should be able to enjoy my food, I payed for it. But that's impossible around you damn pigs." Feel the love!)
" why its not like you have excellent table manners."Q said when I asked him to follow my example.
Shocked I gasped "that's bullshit!"
"We shall see." He said and I waited for him to prove his point.
But he didnt (booyah! See?) and the days went on as usual ("how can you not hear yourself? Close your mouth!")
That is until we got in a fight over how to eat spaghetti.
"You DO NOT slurp it up!" I said shocked.
"How else can I eat it?" Quint said slurping away.
"Really? I have to explain? Jesus Quint your disgusting."
And then it happened.
He grabbed his phone and said "I didn't want to show you this. It gives me satisfaction just knowing I'm right but you seriously won't shut up so here..." he shoves his phone at me."press play."
Confused I did as I was told and the horror unfolded.
In the video I sat in a chair in front of the tv eating some soup. With each bite I got more and more Fucking disgusting. I slurped and smacked and when I laughed at something on tv, food shot out of my mouth and I did nothing.
I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and then on the chair. I burped and didn't excuse myself. I grunted at the dogs when they got too close.
"What was that?" I gasped.
"That's you telling the dogs to back up." Q said.
"I don't speak?"
"Oh no. But they understand."
And they did. It was horrifying.
"Am I always like this?" I asked tears welling up in my eyes.
" yes honey." Quint says and pats me on the back.
"I'm disgusting." I whisper and start to cry.
Quint laughs gives me a hug and says "yes honey. Yes you are."
He's an Asshole.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Andy Candy
I think doing puzzles or making models or really any hobby store crafty idea is boring. This lady told me once that puzzles are relaxing. No they arnt. Someone told me its satisfying to build and complete a model. No it isn't. It's fucking boring and the end result is usually something stupid and who fucking cares anyway. BORING.
When we were kids my older brother Brent loved to build models. I forget what kind they were, cars I think (stupid). He would paint them and glue all the pieces and put on all the stickers. It was even boring to watch. But sometimes he had to use the only cool thing about this stupid pointless hobby.....
The exact-o knife.
THEY ARE SO AWESOME. As someone who collects office supplies, I find the exact-o knife to be like an awesome pen that stabs instead of writes. My brother would sit there cutting out small circles or some design that sissors never could. It allowed you to use so much detail, and be so...exact. I was obsessed with this knife and wanted one really bad.
"No." My stepmom said when I asked.
"Why? It's not fair. Brent has one." I begged.
"Brent is 5 yrs older than you and isn't careless or easily sidetracked." (Once I superglued my hand to the counter because I 'wanted to see if it really worked.')
"I promise I'll be good." I pleaded.
"No Molly. You will just hurt yourself. Now go away."
She instructed my brother to never let us other kids play with it and told him if we did, she would take it away from him for good. So one day when Brent was model building I asked him if I could see the knife. he looked at me and said "I don't fucking care. but if you hurt someone I will literally beat the shit out of you."
Yay!
I sat down and started to cut everything. A slice here a slice there...it was so exhilarating! It was so shiny and pretty and it was so SHARP. I popped a Zot (best candy ever) into my mouth and looked at the wrapper to see what I could cut it into.
It was then I saw it. The word "candy." If I just cut off the c, then it would say Andy...my little brothers name! Now that's cool!
"That's stupid." Brent said when I told him."your so stupid."
Whatever it was cool. So I took the wrapper (and get this) wrapped it AROUND MY FINGER and stabbed into it.
And sliced my finger wide the Fuck open.
I dropped the knife and grabbed my finger. I quickly looked up at Brent who thank god wasn't watching me. I got up and ran to the bathroom.
"What's wrong?" Brent said as I slammed the door.
"Nothing!" I yelled back staring in the mirror.
"Haha! Molly has the shits!" Brent said. (you know, he really was such an asshole.)
I was too afraid to look at my finger so I turned on the water and shoved my finger under it. Blood splattered everywhere when the water hit it and I started to panic. Holyshit holyshit holyshit! I grabbed the hand towel and wrapped it around my finger.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Shit.
"Molly?" Asked Brent.
"Yes?"
"Why is there fucking blood all over my knife?"
"No idea."
"Oh really? OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR."
"No, I'm good but thanks."
"OPEN THE DOOR MOLLY I'M NOT FUCKING KIDDING YOU DUMBASS! What did you do?"
"Nothing. Can you get mom?"
"No I cannot get mom but if you don't open this fucking door I'll break it in."
"No that's ok. You can go."
Then it was quiet.
Was he gone? I put my ear to the door and listened....I couldn't hear anything. I had to get Linda. I was scared to death Brent might kill me but at this moment I was sure my finger was seriously fucked.
I opened the door fast and ran.
Ran, of course, right into Brent. He grabbed the towel and looked at my finger.
"Holyshit Molly! You stupid asshole!" He yelled squeezing my hand.
"Ow! That hurts! LINDA!"
And there she appeared. (i dont know if this is a mom thing or what, but i kid you not, that woman was everywhere, all the time.)
"What's going on?" She said and grabbed my hand.
"the dumbass tryed to cut off her finger. i didnt let her use the knife mom, she stole it." Brent said smiling at me like the asshole he is.
She gasped and said "Oh no....ok, lets go get your father."
FUCK THAT.
The sight of blood pissed my dad off. He did not have sympathy for the injured party. he found them stupid for getting themselves hurt in the first place.
"No...Linda please!" I cryed as she dragged me to my dad. Who (yay) was sleeping.
Don't they say to never poke a sleeping bear? Well waking my dad up with something one of his stupid children did got the same results.
"Clark. Wake up. One of them is hurt."
My dad stirred and said "which one." (Why? Did it matter? I was dead.)
"Molly. She cut her finger. It's really bad."
My dad snorted, said "of course its her" and sat up.
"Is it bleeding?" He asked.
"Yes." Linda said "pretty bad too I think its sorta deep."
My dad looked at my hand, shook his head and said "she's fine. This one here? she's isn't gonna be a surgeon. I'm sure whatever exciting career she chooses she can do it with one less finger." and layed back down.
Say what?
"MY FINGER IS GOING TO FALL OFF?" I screamed.
My dad sighed and said "no. Just put a band aid on it and GO AWAY."
My stepmom was pissed."look Clark I realize this isn't front page news but the child is hurt and we should do something about it." (Go mom!)
My dad sat back up."ok." He said."Molly would you like to go to the hospital and get a shot and then have them take a large needle and sew up ur hand?"
I looked at my stepmom, then my dad.
"No." I said.
My dad threw up his hands "there ya go. I promise you if you take her in, she with throw a shitfit of all shitfits when she sees that needle. Im too tired for that shit. Take her if you want to but I'm not going." And he layed down and pulled the covers over his head.
Linda looked at me and sighed. My dad said "just get her a fucking band aid" under his breath and Linda shook her head.
"Just apply pressure and hold your hand up like this." And she walked me to my room.
(Um hello? Bleeding to death here!)
"ok. Now lay down and relax." She said.
I was miserable. My finger was in so much pain. I was sure it was either gonna fall off or I would literally bleed to death. Plus, currently Brent was standing behind my stepmom shaking his head at me and mouthing "I'm going to beat the shit outta you".
Sigh.
"oh and the next time you try to cut off a finger," Linda said getting up to leave, "DO NOT use my white towels on the blood. I will never get this stain out."
And she left me there to die.
When we were kids my older brother Brent loved to build models. I forget what kind they were, cars I think (stupid). He would paint them and glue all the pieces and put on all the stickers. It was even boring to watch. But sometimes he had to use the only cool thing about this stupid pointless hobby.....
The exact-o knife.
THEY ARE SO AWESOME. As someone who collects office supplies, I find the exact-o knife to be like an awesome pen that stabs instead of writes. My brother would sit there cutting out small circles or some design that sissors never could. It allowed you to use so much detail, and be so...exact. I was obsessed with this knife and wanted one really bad.
"No." My stepmom said when I asked.
"Why? It's not fair. Brent has one." I begged.
"Brent is 5 yrs older than you and isn't careless or easily sidetracked." (Once I superglued my hand to the counter because I 'wanted to see if it really worked.')
"I promise I'll be good." I pleaded.
"No Molly. You will just hurt yourself. Now go away."
She instructed my brother to never let us other kids play with it and told him if we did, she would take it away from him for good. So one day when Brent was model building I asked him if I could see the knife. he looked at me and said "I don't fucking care. but if you hurt someone I will literally beat the shit out of you."
Yay!
I sat down and started to cut everything. A slice here a slice there...it was so exhilarating! It was so shiny and pretty and it was so SHARP. I popped a Zot (best candy ever) into my mouth and looked at the wrapper to see what I could cut it into.
It was then I saw it. The word "candy." If I just cut off the c, then it would say Andy...my little brothers name! Now that's cool!
"That's stupid." Brent said when I told him."your so stupid."
Whatever it was cool. So I took the wrapper (and get this) wrapped it AROUND MY FINGER and stabbed into it.
And sliced my finger wide the Fuck open.
I dropped the knife and grabbed my finger. I quickly looked up at Brent who thank god wasn't watching me. I got up and ran to the bathroom.
"What's wrong?" Brent said as I slammed the door.
"Nothing!" I yelled back staring in the mirror.
"Haha! Molly has the shits!" Brent said. (you know, he really was such an asshole.)
I was too afraid to look at my finger so I turned on the water and shoved my finger under it. Blood splattered everywhere when the water hit it and I started to panic. Holyshit holyshit holyshit! I grabbed the hand towel and wrapped it around my finger.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Shit.
"Molly?" Asked Brent.
"Yes?"
"Why is there fucking blood all over my knife?"
"No idea."
"Oh really? OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR."
"No, I'm good but thanks."
"OPEN THE DOOR MOLLY I'M NOT FUCKING KIDDING YOU DUMBASS! What did you do?"
"Nothing. Can you get mom?"
"No I cannot get mom but if you don't open this fucking door I'll break it in."
"No that's ok. You can go."
Then it was quiet.
Was he gone? I put my ear to the door and listened....I couldn't hear anything. I had to get Linda. I was scared to death Brent might kill me but at this moment I was sure my finger was seriously fucked.
I opened the door fast and ran.
Ran, of course, right into Brent. He grabbed the towel and looked at my finger.
"Holyshit Molly! You stupid asshole!" He yelled squeezing my hand.
"Ow! That hurts! LINDA!"
And there she appeared. (i dont know if this is a mom thing or what, but i kid you not, that woman was everywhere, all the time.)
"What's going on?" She said and grabbed my hand.
"the dumbass tryed to cut off her finger. i didnt let her use the knife mom, she stole it." Brent said smiling at me like the asshole he is.
She gasped and said "Oh no....ok, lets go get your father."
FUCK THAT.
The sight of blood pissed my dad off. He did not have sympathy for the injured party. he found them stupid for getting themselves hurt in the first place.
"No...Linda please!" I cryed as she dragged me to my dad. Who (yay) was sleeping.
Don't they say to never poke a sleeping bear? Well waking my dad up with something one of his stupid children did got the same results.
"Clark. Wake up. One of them is hurt."
My dad stirred and said "which one." (Why? Did it matter? I was dead.)
"Molly. She cut her finger. It's really bad."
My dad snorted, said "of course its her" and sat up.
"Is it bleeding?" He asked.
"Yes." Linda said "pretty bad too I think its sorta deep."
My dad looked at my hand, shook his head and said "she's fine. This one here? she's isn't gonna be a surgeon. I'm sure whatever exciting career she chooses she can do it with one less finger." and layed back down.
Say what?
"MY FINGER IS GOING TO FALL OFF?" I screamed.
My dad sighed and said "no. Just put a band aid on it and GO AWAY."
My stepmom was pissed."look Clark I realize this isn't front page news but the child is hurt and we should do something about it." (Go mom!)
My dad sat back up."ok." He said."Molly would you like to go to the hospital and get a shot and then have them take a large needle and sew up ur hand?"
I looked at my stepmom, then my dad.
"No." I said.
My dad threw up his hands "there ya go. I promise you if you take her in, she with throw a shitfit of all shitfits when she sees that needle. Im too tired for that shit. Take her if you want to but I'm not going." And he layed down and pulled the covers over his head.
Linda looked at me and sighed. My dad said "just get her a fucking band aid" under his breath and Linda shook her head.
"Just apply pressure and hold your hand up like this." And she walked me to my room.
(Um hello? Bleeding to death here!)
"ok. Now lay down and relax." She said.
I was miserable. My finger was in so much pain. I was sure it was either gonna fall off or I would literally bleed to death. Plus, currently Brent was standing behind my stepmom shaking his head at me and mouthing "I'm going to beat the shit outta you".
Sigh.
"oh and the next time you try to cut off a finger," Linda said getting up to leave, "DO NOT use my white towels on the blood. I will never get this stain out."
And she left me there to die.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
i love rock 'n roll! so put another dime in the jukebox baby!
And then like 75 more cents cause i'd like to hear at least one song, thanks!
You can't do shit with a dime these days.
I do remember when we were kids the parents would take us to shakeys pizza (BEST PIZZA EVER) And we would watch silent films and play 'another one bites the dust' over and over on the jukebox and it was 10 cents a song. (my dad told us what that ment...another one bites the dust...and we thought it was so awesome)
10 cents. Whatever...I can't even remember the last time I had a dime. I remember seeing one, I vacuumed it up. Waste of space. Q says "ten of those makes a dollar Molly." Yeah, um I know. Fucking 10 OF THEM. the only coin I save from Mr. Dyson is the all mighty quarter. Pick up your change people!
But that's not the point I'm trying to make here.
I do love me some rock 'n roll. I especially love me the rock band gods of the 80's.....BON JOVI.
Bon Jovi literally changed my life. The moment I heard living' on a prayer I was hooked and hooked good. Time stood still and the gates of hairbands and rock gods opened for young Molly. I couldn't get enough! I bought 2 of every magazine (metal edge!) and poster that was Bon Jovi.(one mag to cut pictures out of and hang on wall, one to keep. One poster to hang, one to keep) My room was a floor to ceiling homage to the god jbj. My dad saw it once...swore words I never heard before and never came back into my room again because "there's so many eyes....watching me. Oh and Molly you have to get dressed in the bathroom now." (This is where I get my paranoia of pics with eyes that follow me QUINT. crazy my ass.)
One year Richie Sambora went on a solo tour and I got to meet him. Lucky for me he had the drummer Tico Torres and the keyboardest David Bryan from Bon Jovi with him, so I really lucked out. But its not like meeting Jbj and I just wasn't satisfied.(it was boring.)
At a Skid Row concert I asked Sebastian Bach the lead singer how Jon Bon Jovi was. He replied "how the Fuck should I know?" I asked the bass player for aerosmith if Jbj was around and he said "you do know he's not in this band right?" I was convinced they all knew each other and someone would give me word on his well being.
I bought a star in the sky and named it after him. I couldn't find it in the sky (whatever that constalation shit is confusing! Hippys!) so I pretended it was the moon and asked it to help me meet Jbj. I used every birthday wish, fallin eyelashes wish, necklace claspy thing in front wish and dandylion wish on asking please please please give me a chance to meet the beautiful Jon Bon Jovi. I am a member of the fan club (backstage with Bon Jovi! It's run by his mom!) and wrote numerous letters asking him to come to my school, my house or even just call me so he knew I existed. Nothing. Nada.
The years ticked by.
Which brings me to the Have a Nice Day tour of 2005.
Goddamn it.
In 2005 I turned 30. I was still nuthouse crazy about them and had spend a good night or 1,000 wasted on vodka or captain, blasting Bon Jovi ballads and singing them at the top of my lungs (this usually happens at 2am on weekdays and q has to get up at 5:30. Needless to say he HATES Bon Jovi) my friend Nicole is just as crazy. (well maybe not. She doesn't have the Bon Jovi coat or belt buckle but she says that's because she "isn't fucking retarded.")
Anyhow, we got our tickets for bon jovi early at presale (fan club bitches!) and had awesome seats on the side of the stage.(After as many arena concerts as I've been too I've come to realize floor seats suck unless your up front.) Day of show we decided to get our preconcert drink on at a little ole bar called the Mecca.
Now. If you have ever been to this bar you know your shit is not gonna walk straight lines or be able to form coherent sentences after about 2 drinks (It is the dirtiest, loudest most kickass bar on queen anne and Fuck you if you don't like it.) After about drink 5 we decided it was time to "fuckin rock!" (I yelled this then fell off my stool and nicole laughed so hard she cryed and then yelled at me for ruining her make-up.) And walked (stumbled) the block to the key arena.
On the way our liquid courage really started to kick in. We decided I was gonna meet Jbj no matter what it took and if it came to it, she would bail me out of jail. Promise.( at that we hugged and got teary eyed cause she's such a good friend and I love her soooooo much and we will always be bffs and bon jovi rules! Gooooooo vodka!)
We got there just as bon jovi went on. Perfect! Song after song we sang and sang and hugged and laughed. About half way through however nicole came to a dead halt looked at me and yelled "I don't feel so good."
"What do you mean?" I asked dancing (really badly according to the lady next to me. She was a b-I-t-c-h.) and rocking along.
"I mean I don't fucking feel good and I need to leave and get some medicine." She said.
"oh!"I said "sounds good! hurry back!"
Thing is, there's no reentry in these places. But somehow, believe it or not, she did leave, went to the store, got medicine (she had heart burn) and somehow got back in. At that I was convinced she was the most badass person around and by far the most clever so when Jon Bon Jovi decided to walk around the floor seated area slapping hands with the lucky assholes below, (me and my fucking theroy on floor seats) she said "you just have to run down the stairs and jump the fence....oh and don't let the security guards get you." I thought....yep that's it. And ran for it.
Liquid courage still going strong, I knocked over people left and right and basically fell down the 35 flights of stairs to the fence. I launched myself at it, hit it very very hard, and threw myself over. As soon as I landed the security came for me."grab her she jumped the fence!" And I ran at Jbj like I was possessed.
"Jon! Jon! Its me Molly!" I screamed as I waved my arms like crazy. I got about 10 ft (!) From him when I got holyshit tackled from a guard that I somehow didn't notice standing right in front of me.(go mecca!) I fell to the ground hard. "ow Goddamm it let me go!" I screamed. I was helpless as the guard held me there when my beloved Jon looked down at me and WALKED ON BY.
"Jon?" I whispered as he kept walking. He never turned around. As the guard helped me to my feet I was stunned silent and didn't bother to fight back as he pulled me away.
"I can't believe he didn't help me up. Or even say hi." I said. I have worshipped this fucking man for 20+ yrs! The guard laughed and patted my arm. "seriously lady that was hilarious. How old are you anyhow? You shouldn't be doing that shit." We got to the fence I jumped (fell over) and he loosened the grip on my arm and gave me a smile."you seem tame enough now. Go on back to your seat."
Big mistake bitch.
"Ya right!" I yelled and turned for my man. Like id give up that easy! How old was I? 30 mother fucker and peace out! Ha! This was my chance and no one was going to stop me!
No one but myself that is and I fell a mere 2 feet away hitting my chin hard as shit on the ground.
The guard laughed, pulled me up and said "you just got yourself thrown out!" And dragged me for the door.
"But my friend and my shit are still at my seat!" I said as I grabbed at anything I could to stop from being thrown out. (I accidentally grabbed this whores shirt and almost got in a fight but that's another story)
"Not my problem." He said as he shoved me outside. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some change.
"Here." He said handing it to me."call someone who cares."
It was a whole woppin 10 cents.
I threw it back at him.
Goddamm it and Fuck him.
You can't do shit with a dime these days.
I do remember when we were kids the parents would take us to shakeys pizza (BEST PIZZA EVER) And we would watch silent films and play 'another one bites the dust' over and over on the jukebox and it was 10 cents a song. (my dad told us what that ment...another one bites the dust...and we thought it was so awesome)
10 cents. Whatever...I can't even remember the last time I had a dime. I remember seeing one, I vacuumed it up. Waste of space. Q says "ten of those makes a dollar Molly." Yeah, um I know. Fucking 10 OF THEM. the only coin I save from Mr. Dyson is the all mighty quarter. Pick up your change people!
But that's not the point I'm trying to make here.
I do love me some rock 'n roll. I especially love me the rock band gods of the 80's.....BON JOVI.
Bon Jovi literally changed my life. The moment I heard living' on a prayer I was hooked and hooked good. Time stood still and the gates of hairbands and rock gods opened for young Molly. I couldn't get enough! I bought 2 of every magazine (metal edge!) and poster that was Bon Jovi.(one mag to cut pictures out of and hang on wall, one to keep. One poster to hang, one to keep) My room was a floor to ceiling homage to the god jbj. My dad saw it once...swore words I never heard before and never came back into my room again because "there's so many eyes....watching me. Oh and Molly you have to get dressed in the bathroom now." (This is where I get my paranoia of pics with eyes that follow me QUINT. crazy my ass.)
One year Richie Sambora went on a solo tour and I got to meet him. Lucky for me he had the drummer Tico Torres and the keyboardest David Bryan from Bon Jovi with him, so I really lucked out. But its not like meeting Jbj and I just wasn't satisfied.(it was boring.)
At a Skid Row concert I asked Sebastian Bach the lead singer how Jon Bon Jovi was. He replied "how the Fuck should I know?" I asked the bass player for aerosmith if Jbj was around and he said "you do know he's not in this band right?" I was convinced they all knew each other and someone would give me word on his well being.
I bought a star in the sky and named it after him. I couldn't find it in the sky (whatever that constalation shit is confusing! Hippys!) so I pretended it was the moon and asked it to help me meet Jbj. I used every birthday wish, fallin eyelashes wish, necklace claspy thing in front wish and dandylion wish on asking please please please give me a chance to meet the beautiful Jon Bon Jovi. I am a member of the fan club (backstage with Bon Jovi! It's run by his mom!) and wrote numerous letters asking him to come to my school, my house or even just call me so he knew I existed. Nothing. Nada.
The years ticked by.
Which brings me to the Have a Nice Day tour of 2005.
Goddamn it.
In 2005 I turned 30. I was still nuthouse crazy about them and had spend a good night or 1,000 wasted on vodka or captain, blasting Bon Jovi ballads and singing them at the top of my lungs (this usually happens at 2am on weekdays and q has to get up at 5:30. Needless to say he HATES Bon Jovi) my friend Nicole is just as crazy. (well maybe not. She doesn't have the Bon Jovi coat or belt buckle but she says that's because she "isn't fucking retarded.")
Anyhow, we got our tickets for bon jovi early at presale (fan club bitches!) and had awesome seats on the side of the stage.(After as many arena concerts as I've been too I've come to realize floor seats suck unless your up front.) Day of show we decided to get our preconcert drink on at a little ole bar called the Mecca.
Now. If you have ever been to this bar you know your shit is not gonna walk straight lines or be able to form coherent sentences after about 2 drinks (It is the dirtiest, loudest most kickass bar on queen anne and Fuck you if you don't like it.) After about drink 5 we decided it was time to "fuckin rock!" (I yelled this then fell off my stool and nicole laughed so hard she cryed and then yelled at me for ruining her make-up.) And walked (stumbled) the block to the key arena.
On the way our liquid courage really started to kick in. We decided I was gonna meet Jbj no matter what it took and if it came to it, she would bail me out of jail. Promise.( at that we hugged and got teary eyed cause she's such a good friend and I love her soooooo much and we will always be bffs and bon jovi rules! Gooooooo vodka!)
We got there just as bon jovi went on. Perfect! Song after song we sang and sang and hugged and laughed. About half way through however nicole came to a dead halt looked at me and yelled "I don't feel so good."
"What do you mean?" I asked dancing (really badly according to the lady next to me. She was a b-I-t-c-h.) and rocking along.
"I mean I don't fucking feel good and I need to leave and get some medicine." She said.
"oh!"I said "sounds good! hurry back!"
Thing is, there's no reentry in these places. But somehow, believe it or not, she did leave, went to the store, got medicine (she had heart burn) and somehow got back in. At that I was convinced she was the most badass person around and by far the most clever so when Jon Bon Jovi decided to walk around the floor seated area slapping hands with the lucky assholes below, (me and my fucking theroy on floor seats) she said "you just have to run down the stairs and jump the fence....oh and don't let the security guards get you." I thought....yep that's it. And ran for it.
Liquid courage still going strong, I knocked over people left and right and basically fell down the 35 flights of stairs to the fence. I launched myself at it, hit it very very hard, and threw myself over. As soon as I landed the security came for me."grab her she jumped the fence!" And I ran at Jbj like I was possessed.
"Jon! Jon! Its me Molly!" I screamed as I waved my arms like crazy. I got about 10 ft (!) From him when I got holyshit tackled from a guard that I somehow didn't notice standing right in front of me.(go mecca!) I fell to the ground hard. "ow Goddamm it let me go!" I screamed. I was helpless as the guard held me there when my beloved Jon looked down at me and WALKED ON BY.
"Jon?" I whispered as he kept walking. He never turned around. As the guard helped me to my feet I was stunned silent and didn't bother to fight back as he pulled me away.
"I can't believe he didn't help me up. Or even say hi." I said. I have worshipped this fucking man for 20+ yrs! The guard laughed and patted my arm. "seriously lady that was hilarious. How old are you anyhow? You shouldn't be doing that shit." We got to the fence I jumped (fell over) and he loosened the grip on my arm and gave me a smile."you seem tame enough now. Go on back to your seat."
Big mistake bitch.
"Ya right!" I yelled and turned for my man. Like id give up that easy! How old was I? 30 mother fucker and peace out! Ha! This was my chance and no one was going to stop me!
No one but myself that is and I fell a mere 2 feet away hitting my chin hard as shit on the ground.
The guard laughed, pulled me up and said "you just got yourself thrown out!" And dragged me for the door.
"But my friend and my shit are still at my seat!" I said as I grabbed at anything I could to stop from being thrown out. (I accidentally grabbed this whores shirt and almost got in a fight but that's another story)
"Not my problem." He said as he shoved me outside. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some change.
"Here." He said handing it to me."call someone who cares."
It was a whole woppin 10 cents.
I threw it back at him.
Goddamm it and Fuck him.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
once apon a time.....
I have a glamorous wonderful job that I wouldn't trade for anything.
Or I can stop lying.
I'm a housekeeper. I scrub toilets and inhale dangerous chemicals daily.(I actually love the smell of windex. What? I do. sorry.) I guess It's not that bad really. I get paid well, make my own hours and am my own boss. It's just.....well, boring sometimes and I don't have anyone to talk to.
But, sometimes I like that too. I mean, once, I got in a rather large fight with my dyson vacuum.(I have a love/hate relationship with him) I was in the middle of cursing it out like he was a redheaded step child when the homeowner and his 5 yr old son walked in on me."look mother fucker I don't need this." I was saying "I will fucking throw you down the Goddamm stairs! Just fucking work! I'm asking please! Fuck!" Needless to say I no longer wk there. So its not always so bad to be alone
Speaking of my shitty dyson, we had a rather interesting day today. I have one of those canister ones that you can use on floors and carpets. It's quite cool, comes in very handy and gets under anything WHEN IT FUCKING WORKS RIGHT. I was vacuuming under this entertainment center when the Goddamm thing plugged up. My first instinct is to blame dyson, its maker, and god for putting us all here. But I'm hasty in that conclusion because underneath things is usually where things hide that clog vacuums. especially when people have kids.(Oh the things ive seen people.)
So I swearingly pull dyson out from under the table and swing the wand up to meet my face and see what we got. And there staring at me with its dead beady eyes is a very large, very dead, mouse.
I screamed and threw dyson down."what the Fuck!?" I scream and start shaking and running in place as if to jog off the memory. What's happening? I can't deal with this! I hate more than anything small dead animals (I probably hate large dead ones too, but have never come across them in my laundry, dog vomit, my bed or my vacuum before). How am I going to deal with this? I slowly picked up dysons wand (that's what she said!) And gently shook it (Haha!) But the mouse didn't budge. Remembering the vacuum was on I quickly shut it off and shook it again. Nothing. I waited a little bit more. Two more shakes. Nothing again.
"How is this possible!?" I yell and drop the vacuum.
I realize then I have no option. I'm going to have to throw dyson away. There is nothing on this earth that could make me try to pry that fucking mouse out of there.
As I looked for a garbage can big enough for my vacuum I had a brilliant idea. It was perfect and I was a genius for thinking of it.(team Molly!) I took the vacuum outside holding dead mouse far far from me and loudly called for the beloved family dog.
Now before you judge me let's look at the facts. I was dealing with some major shit here. I was gonna have to throw my amazing (I take it all back I love you dyson!) vacuum away...my money maker. I had no choice. And really? Come on...dogs love dead shit.
"Maddie!" I yelled."come here girl!" In all of 5 seconds the biggest sweetest playfulest chocolate lab was standing in front of me.
"I have something for yooouuu!" I sang and Maddie's tail went into high gear.
I whipped the vacuum wand in front of her pointing the dead thing right at her nose and said "get it girl!" This is where I made my GIANT MISTAKE.
Besides squirrels and mailmen what do you think dogs hate the most?
Vacuum cleaners.
In that second Maddie, the sweet big chocolate lab turned into a giant horse sized dogmonster with glowing red eyes (I swear!) Her smile vanished, tail stopped wagging and this low scary growl started to escape from her throat.
"Ah oh." I said.
And as if that was Domonsters command for "kill", she lept at us to do just that.
I shoved the wand forward as she came at me and I fell down from her impact. Dogmonster Grabbed sweet dyson by the hose and started shaking him side to side like a psycho murdering animal. I got up and started hopping foot to foot shaking my hands yelling "maddie stop! Maddie stop! Bad dog! Bad fucking dog!" But this seemed to egg her on and she started to drag dyson backwards into the woods.
"No no no no no no no no!" I screamed and chased after her.
I grabbed dysons plug and pulled back. Dogmonster shot a glance my way and bared her teeth over the hose."bring it on maddie!" I screamed "this vacuum? It cost 500$ fucking dollars!"
I yanked back on the cord and we were in an all out tug o war. I was screaming "drop it! Bad dog!" And pulling hard when I felt something repeatedly hit me on the back. My first thought was that a bird had ran into me (i know thats weird but seriously its something that haunts me daily. No scratch that, it freaks me the fuck out. that goddamn movie "birds" has forever ruined me.) so I screamed, dropped the vacuum, and turned around. And there, wide eyed and scared shitless was this little old woman hitting me with a kitchen towel like I was on fire.
"What's happening what's happening whats happening!" She yelled STILL HITTING ME.
I grabbed at the towel (why the fuck is she hitting me?) missed and tripped on a log and came crashing down on the lady like a tree.(if a tree falls in the forest and noone is around does it make a sound? If its me it does. It says "oh shit!")
I knocked towel lady down and she started to scream. I did too because it only seemed appropriate. She continued to hit me with the dish towel and yelled "get off me I'm calling 911!"
The words nine-one-one will make anyone stop and think (yeah right) and I said "why? What's wrong?" While scrambling off this women (who the Fuck is she? Where the fuck did she come from? I mean these people live in middle of the fucking woods!) and clutching my now bleeding knee.
"You! Stay away from sweet Maddie! I'm going to call 911!" Towel woman yells STILL HITTING ME WITH THE GODDAMM THING.
"What? why? I didn't do anything! She's eating my vacuum!" And then suddenly as if nothing was going on before, the old bitch looks at the scene right in front of her (finally stops hitting me i might add. thanks bitch!) and says "oh. she will drop it if you squeak her ball." As sweet as pie.
Stunned I just stared at her. What did she just say? Where the Fuck am I? Then the sounds of dyson dying and being dragged further into the forest snapped me out of it.
"what ball?" (You bitch.) I ask.
"Oh this one." She says and points at a headgehog squeaky toy laying in the yard as she walks away.
Thinking I was crazy or maybe just forgot that I must of taken acid this morning (I swear I didn't even drink today!) I ran at the hedgehog like it was gold.
I turned around squeaking the thing like crazy and ran after dogmonster and my beautiful dyson."maddie! maddie! I got your toy!"
In less than 5 seconds there was the biggest sweetest playfulest chocolate lab standing in front of me wagging her tail."you have got to be fucking kidding me." I said and threw the hedgehog far far away and went to save my vacuum.
Oh p.s. 2 things.....
#1. It took close to a half an hr to get the vacuum into my car because everytime Maddie brought the toy back she would morf into dogmonster again at the sight of dyson(still in one piece...many many holes but....yay!) And id have to wrestle her from him, and throw the Goddamm toy again.
And #2. The mouse was still in the wand. Fuck me.( that's what she said!)
Or I can stop lying.
I'm a housekeeper. I scrub toilets and inhale dangerous chemicals daily.(I actually love the smell of windex. What? I do. sorry.) I guess It's not that bad really. I get paid well, make my own hours and am my own boss. It's just.....well, boring sometimes and I don't have anyone to talk to.
But, sometimes I like that too. I mean, once, I got in a rather large fight with my dyson vacuum.(I have a love/hate relationship with him) I was in the middle of cursing it out like he was a redheaded step child when the homeowner and his 5 yr old son walked in on me."look mother fucker I don't need this." I was saying "I will fucking throw you down the Goddamm stairs! Just fucking work! I'm asking please! Fuck!" Needless to say I no longer wk there. So its not always so bad to be alone
Speaking of my shitty dyson, we had a rather interesting day today. I have one of those canister ones that you can use on floors and carpets. It's quite cool, comes in very handy and gets under anything WHEN IT FUCKING WORKS RIGHT. I was vacuuming under this entertainment center when the Goddamm thing plugged up. My first instinct is to blame dyson, its maker, and god for putting us all here. But I'm hasty in that conclusion because underneath things is usually where things hide that clog vacuums. especially when people have kids.(Oh the things ive seen people.)
So I swearingly pull dyson out from under the table and swing the wand up to meet my face and see what we got. And there staring at me with its dead beady eyes is a very large, very dead, mouse.
I screamed and threw dyson down."what the Fuck!?" I scream and start shaking and running in place as if to jog off the memory. What's happening? I can't deal with this! I hate more than anything small dead animals (I probably hate large dead ones too, but have never come across them in my laundry, dog vomit, my bed or my vacuum before). How am I going to deal with this? I slowly picked up dysons wand (that's what she said!) And gently shook it (Haha!) But the mouse didn't budge. Remembering the vacuum was on I quickly shut it off and shook it again. Nothing. I waited a little bit more. Two more shakes. Nothing again.
"How is this possible!?" I yell and drop the vacuum.
I realize then I have no option. I'm going to have to throw dyson away. There is nothing on this earth that could make me try to pry that fucking mouse out of there.
As I looked for a garbage can big enough for my vacuum I had a brilliant idea. It was perfect and I was a genius for thinking of it.(team Molly!) I took the vacuum outside holding dead mouse far far from me and loudly called for the beloved family dog.
Now before you judge me let's look at the facts. I was dealing with some major shit here. I was gonna have to throw my amazing (I take it all back I love you dyson!) vacuum away...my money maker. I had no choice. And really? Come on...dogs love dead shit.
"Maddie!" I yelled."come here girl!" In all of 5 seconds the biggest sweetest playfulest chocolate lab was standing in front of me.
"I have something for yooouuu!" I sang and Maddie's tail went into high gear.
I whipped the vacuum wand in front of her pointing the dead thing right at her nose and said "get it girl!" This is where I made my GIANT MISTAKE.
Besides squirrels and mailmen what do you think dogs hate the most?
Vacuum cleaners.
In that second Maddie, the sweet big chocolate lab turned into a giant horse sized dogmonster with glowing red eyes (I swear!) Her smile vanished, tail stopped wagging and this low scary growl started to escape from her throat.
"Ah oh." I said.
And as if that was Domonsters command for "kill", she lept at us to do just that.
I shoved the wand forward as she came at me and I fell down from her impact. Dogmonster Grabbed sweet dyson by the hose and started shaking him side to side like a psycho murdering animal. I got up and started hopping foot to foot shaking my hands yelling "maddie stop! Maddie stop! Bad dog! Bad fucking dog!" But this seemed to egg her on and she started to drag dyson backwards into the woods.
"No no no no no no no no!" I screamed and chased after her.
I grabbed dysons plug and pulled back. Dogmonster shot a glance my way and bared her teeth over the hose."bring it on maddie!" I screamed "this vacuum? It cost 500$ fucking dollars!"
I yanked back on the cord and we were in an all out tug o war. I was screaming "drop it! Bad dog!" And pulling hard when I felt something repeatedly hit me on the back. My first thought was that a bird had ran into me (i know thats weird but seriously its something that haunts me daily. No scratch that, it freaks me the fuck out. that goddamn movie "birds" has forever ruined me.) so I screamed, dropped the vacuum, and turned around. And there, wide eyed and scared shitless was this little old woman hitting me with a kitchen towel like I was on fire.
"What's happening what's happening whats happening!" She yelled STILL HITTING ME.
I grabbed at the towel (why the fuck is she hitting me?) missed and tripped on a log and came crashing down on the lady like a tree.(if a tree falls in the forest and noone is around does it make a sound? If its me it does. It says "oh shit!")
I knocked towel lady down and she started to scream. I did too because it only seemed appropriate. She continued to hit me with the dish towel and yelled "get off me I'm calling 911!"
The words nine-one-one will make anyone stop and think (yeah right) and I said "why? What's wrong?" While scrambling off this women (who the Fuck is she? Where the fuck did she come from? I mean these people live in middle of the fucking woods!) and clutching my now bleeding knee.
"You! Stay away from sweet Maddie! I'm going to call 911!" Towel woman yells STILL HITTING ME WITH THE GODDAMM THING.
"What? why? I didn't do anything! She's eating my vacuum!" And then suddenly as if nothing was going on before, the old bitch looks at the scene right in front of her (finally stops hitting me i might add. thanks bitch!) and says "oh. she will drop it if you squeak her ball." As sweet as pie.
Stunned I just stared at her. What did she just say? Where the Fuck am I? Then the sounds of dyson dying and being dragged further into the forest snapped me out of it.
"what ball?" (You bitch.) I ask.
"Oh this one." She says and points at a headgehog squeaky toy laying in the yard as she walks away.
Thinking I was crazy or maybe just forgot that I must of taken acid this morning (I swear I didn't even drink today!) I ran at the hedgehog like it was gold.
I turned around squeaking the thing like crazy and ran after dogmonster and my beautiful dyson."maddie! maddie! I got your toy!"
In less than 5 seconds there was the biggest sweetest playfulest chocolate lab standing in front of me wagging her tail."you have got to be fucking kidding me." I said and threw the hedgehog far far away and went to save my vacuum.
Oh p.s. 2 things.....
#1. It took close to a half an hr to get the vacuum into my car because everytime Maddie brought the toy back she would morf into dogmonster again at the sight of dyson(still in one piece...many many holes but....yay!) And id have to wrestle her from him, and throw the Goddamm toy again.
And #2. The mouse was still in the wand. Fuck me.( that's what she said!)
I love thai food but I'm not allowed to go to the resturants anymore. Or if I do, I'm not allowed to speak to the staff or if addressed answer any questions. It's not my fault and I didn't do anything, but these are Qs rules. It's due to my absolute mental block I have for any form of English being spoken with an accent. I don't mean to do it. I literally just cannot understand a single word they are saying. I spend the entire time saying "I'm sorry?" Or "what was that?" Or "one more time?" Quint gets so frustrated and usually speaks for me apologizing and telling them I am partially deaf. Once they even started yelling at me in hopes I could hear and help myself like a good girl but instead I just got pissed cause I'm not deaf I'm fucking ignorant. Jesus. Figure it out. I never used to be so bad but I swear when I moved to Bremerton a small part of my soul died and got taken over by rednecks. I'm not saying its wrong to have an accent I'm just saying I can't understand you if you do and getting my drink order is going to take a very long time. so talk to the man cause this bitch no comprehende.
Monday, June 14, 2010
rules my dogs must live by if they want mommy to stop swearing.
#1. THOU SHALL NOT STEP IN DOGSHIT AND THEN JUMP ON MOMMYS BED.
#2. Dogs are supposed to eat dog food. We will not starve ourselves for 3 days until mommy breaks down and makes us scrambled eggs.
#3. Barking non-stop during Robsessed is a BAD IDEA.
#4. Not EVERYONE loves small dead animals. Keep um outside.
#5. White leather couches ARE NOT chew toys.
#6. Burying bones in house plants is wrong. Peeing on them is too.
#7. Mommy is our favorite. When mommy is mad at daddy, take HER side.
#8. Waking mommy up from a nap by barking like phycotic possesed rabid dogs at a crow is a no-no.
#2. Dogs are supposed to eat dog food. We will not starve ourselves for 3 days until mommy breaks down and makes us scrambled eggs.
#3. Barking non-stop during Robsessed is a BAD IDEA.
#4. Not EVERYONE loves small dead animals. Keep um outside.
#5. White leather couches ARE NOT chew toys.
#6. Burying bones in house plants is wrong. Peeing on them is too.
#7. Mommy is our favorite. When mommy is mad at daddy, take HER side.
#8. Waking mommy up from a nap by barking like phycotic possesed rabid dogs at a crow is a no-no.
from bremerton with love
5 yrs ago somehow, somewhere my husband Quint and I found ourselves in a position to buy a house. It was, by far, the most exciting thing I could think of because finally I was gonna be able to do what I want when I wanted and noone could do shit about it because it would be MINE. No rules about dogs, or paint colors, or deposits, or loud music (I cannot and willnot listen to my music on anything but LOUD). Little did I know house buying is probably the WORST thing you can do with your significant other. I grew to resent Quint with each passing house and day. I didn't mean to but Jesus Christ that man is picky. I hate shopping. I hate browsing. Quint on the other hand wants to shop until he finds the best one at the lowest price. I find what I want and buy it. I don't even try it on in the store. I want out of there. If it doesn't fit, I'll return it or just find a way to tweek it so it does.
This is how I house shopped. By the end of the day I loved whatever house we were currently looking at or one from that day just so I wouldn't have to look at another house ever the Fuck again. But no."I don't like the front." He'd say. Or "its boring." Or "it has no personality." Or...my favorite "no." When we never even got out of the car.
Thing is, he was right each time but I have no patience and I hate having so many options. It's just confusing. And what if I pick the wrong one?
But turns out going through all that crap payed off. One day q came home with a picture of a house in Bremerton and said "what about this one?" And the instant I saw it I knew.
It was perfect. Everything we wanted combined and perfect for our doggies. In the town we wanted..not too far from our jobs and in a 'hip' area. I was sold. I was so happy I forgot how annoying the house buying process was and when discussing how we would "gut the whole house and save money doing it ourselves" I actually was excited about it. BOY WAS I WRONG.
We almost got in a fist fight over what to rip down or out, couldnt agree on colors, floors, curtains, furniture,appliances, door knobs, kitchen hardware or cabinets and almost got a divorce over hanging drywall. And let me tell you something....shopping for light fixtures is fucking hell. I hate lowes and home depot now and just driving buy them puts me in a bad mood.(Ive thrown so many fits in them they probably hate me too.)
And here we sit 5 yrs later only half way done with our remodeling and if we want to stay married I think its gonna have to stay that way.
This is how I house shopped. By the end of the day I loved whatever house we were currently looking at or one from that day just so I wouldn't have to look at another house ever the Fuck again. But no."I don't like the front." He'd say. Or "its boring." Or "it has no personality." Or...my favorite "no." When we never even got out of the car.
Thing is, he was right each time but I have no patience and I hate having so many options. It's just confusing. And what if I pick the wrong one?
But turns out going through all that crap payed off. One day q came home with a picture of a house in Bremerton and said "what about this one?" And the instant I saw it I knew.
It was perfect. Everything we wanted combined and perfect for our doggies. In the town we wanted..not too far from our jobs and in a 'hip' area. I was sold. I was so happy I forgot how annoying the house buying process was and when discussing how we would "gut the whole house and save money doing it ourselves" I actually was excited about it. BOY WAS I WRONG.
We almost got in a fist fight over what to rip down or out, couldnt agree on colors, floors, curtains, furniture,appliances, door knobs, kitchen hardware or cabinets and almost got a divorce over hanging drywall. And let me tell you something....shopping for light fixtures is fucking hell. I hate lowes and home depot now and just driving buy them puts me in a bad mood.(Ive thrown so many fits in them they probably hate me too.)
And here we sit 5 yrs later only half way done with our remodeling and if we want to stay married I think its gonna have to stay that way.
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