If it sucks, you can eat a sandwich

(First - a question: Am I supposed to capitalize every word of my blog post titles?  Not capitalizing makes it look weird.  Capitalizing makes it look too formal.  This is why I hated English classes!)

(Second - a confession.  I have two or three started-but-not-finished saved drafts of posts.  I'm going to try to rectify that situation)

My parental unit came to visit last weekend.  We hit a local Mardi Gras party, and went to a music show.  And played a lot of cards.  And ate a lot.  The title of this post came from the weekend.  First, I cooked something in the crock pot for dinner Friday night.  I wasn't sure when everyone was going to get here, mom and dad were driving in, Hitter was coming from a business trip, crock pot food can kind of hang out and wait until everyone's ready.  Perfect. 

I titled this picture "Surly Crock Pot"



Problem.  I felt compelled to make a recipe I'd never tried before.  So... I told everyone "if it sucks, you can eat a sandwich!" which then kind of became catch phrase of the weekend.  Saturday night, dad wanted wings from a restaurant where I had no idea how the wings were... so I told him to go ahead and order them, and if they suck he can go home and eat a sandwich.  Sunday we had no idea what we were getting into with the music show, it was something none of us had heard of before.  So... you guessed it!  "Well I guess if the show sucks we can always leave... and come home and eat sandwiches" 

And that explains the title of the post.

New topic: I've been having more fun with cameras.  I've officially become a photography nut.  Not a photographer, not even someone whose hobby is photography.  I'm just nuts.  On a high note, I finally learned how to use the dSLR on manual setting.  On a low note, I've become a little disillusioned with that camera and want a shiny new big fancy one.  Except I don't have a spare $1500 laying around.  And I want a macro lens, but I don't have a spare $500 laying around either.  *sigh* 

Which brings me to my next point.  Money doesn't buy happiness.  Yeah yeah I know, you hear that all the time.  And if you don't have money, you think this is a whole load of crap.  Hear me out.  Actually, don't.  I think everyone should quit reading.  Because I'm about to have the world's biggest pity party.

I really know how to have a good time, huh?  Okay let me start by saying I know I have it pretty good.  And I hate it when I go into a pity party because I know that there are gobs of people that would love to switch places with me.  And I WOULDN'T want to switch places with most of them.  So life is peachy, right?

Wrong.

There's still something missing.  And it's a biggie.  And it's not something I can buy.  Nor is it something Hitter can buy for me.  Sometimes I tell Hitter that my life was easier when I was poor.  Crazy, right?  But it's true. 

I miss independence.  I miss freedom.  I miss privacy.  I miss respect. 

I keep having recurring dreams where I'm back in college.  I dream about the town, I dream about classes and homework and professors, and I dream about the dorms.  (Irony, huh?  Privacy... dorms... yeah right!)  Everyone keeps reminding me "you can't go back, it wouldn't be the same" and 1. yeah I know that 2. I'm not going to go back, am I? 3. even if I did go back I wouldn't want it to be just the same... but mostly I can't go back.  However, it's not that I want to go relive my college days, it's that I miss what college represented.  Friends.  Independence.  Fun.  Making my own decisions.  Making do with what I had.  Doing crazy things because they were fun.  Making new friends everywhere I went.  Teetering on that line between fun and stupid.    Did I mention friends?  And fun?  Yeah.  Not just fun and friends though, I worked.  I went to class and had a job.  I had a job I loved, and I gave up the traditional spring break so I could go get another job.  I spent my summers on internships.  But they were what I wanted to do.  My decisions.  My independence.  MY LIFE. 

I have NONE of that now.  I am stuck in this Hillbilly Hell/Snooty City with no friends.  I can't do anything with my life cuz I'm stuck here where there is nothing for me.  I can't do anything without clearing it with my warden husband first.  And he's a fun-hater.  So I buy myself things to try to get happy... but it doesn't work. 

It sucks, and I eat a sandwich.  I hate pity parties.  They make me feel ashamed of myself.  And all they serve are sandwiches.  Bleh.  Mostly I'm ashamed though, sandwiches are okay.  I kinda hate myself a little bit.  And I don't know what to do about it all. 

God wants me to be rich, Part 2

Remember when the fates were giving me money?  It's happening again.  Well, the fates are trying, but MasterCard might be resisting. 

MasterCard is an asshole.

Clear back in December, I had just received the next two DVDs in my Netflix queue and I went to pop them into the DVD player in the living room and watch......

Wait, I need to give some background.  I'm a tightwad.  Sometimes.  I mean I had to get a camper and a brand new car and a smart phone and a laptop and a swimming pool and an acreage and new office furniture and my shiny new KitchenAid and... and... and... other stuff.  But by gosh and by golly I do NOT need to be spending $35 on a cheap little DVD player for the living room, because we have a portable take-along-in-the-car DVD player that has cables to use with a regular TV too if you want to.  And that's good enough for me! 

I may be a hypocrite.

So this portable DVD player doesn't just have a tray you drop the DVD onto, it has that little spindle thing that the DVD snaps onto. 

And nothing happened.  The DVD wouldn't play.  Wouldn't even get to the menu, much less actually play the movie.  So I opened it up to take the DVD out and check for scratches or dirt or whatever, which is a pretty common issue with Netflix.....

Discs snapped in half are not so common.  *sigh*  So I get out the other movie, checked it to make sure it wasn't broken before putting it in, stuck it into the DVD player, pushed play... and.....

*sigh*

Cracked that DVD too. 

At this point I was left with a moral dilemma.  Do I just stuff the DVDs back into the envelopes and ship 'em, hoping Netflix thinks they broke in the mail? Or do I not be a big fat jerk, and actually 'fess up to the fact that I broke them? 

I tried to be an asshole.  I really did.  I had gone so far as to put them back into their envelopes and seal it all up, and had them sitting on the TV cabinet waiting to go out in the mail.  But then the goody-two-shoes inside me took over and was all "that's just not right" so I got on the Netflix website and clicked on the "I lost or broke a DVD" button... twice... and they charged me like $30 for the two movies.  But at least I still had my soul...

Fast forward to last week.  We're having the Winter Storm of the Century (aka Snowpocalypse, aka Blizzargeddon) and we get a phone call from MasterCard asking if I was off making hundred dollar purchases at 4 different pharmacies that day.  Kudos to our credit card company for calling immediately (unlike fucking Citi Card and their shitty fraud detection unit... but that's a post for another day) so we got my card canceled and they're issuing me a new one. 

Fast forward to yesterday.  I've had two other movies out for like two weeks now... which is a stupid giant waste of money... and I need to go run some errands anyway, so I plan to take the two movies along and stuff them in the nearest blue box.  I grab two red Netflix envelopes from the top of the TV and head out the door.  Then last night I'm sorting through my mail... and find a Netflix envelope.  Hmm...  Did I mail back the Wii disc? 

Then this morning I open my email. 

I had mailed back the broken DVDs... that I had already admitted to breaking...

AND NETFLIX REFUNDED MY MONEY!

To the credit card that was emergency-closed last week.

I'm not entirely sure I'll ever see this money, but God wants me to be rich.  And that makes me happy.

P.S. Now I need to find where that other movie is...  and I'm clueless.

Cake Battery

Remember this?

Apparently the gender roles have continued to the next generation.  Buffalo and the Prom Queen have two kids, a 5 year old girl and a 3 year old boy.  A few stories:

• for the niece's third birthday, I made her a Dora the Explorer cake.  It was a 3D cake of my own carving.  Bran Flake asked me "will it be good enough that she will know what you're trying to make?"  Seriously.  WTF?  
• this past year for her fifth birthday, she wanted Hannah Montanna Montanah Montannah seriously, my fingers will not type that.  Anyway, long story but the moral is at one point Flake goes "well if you can't make a good cake for everybody, I suppose I can stop at the store and get something better" and then when we got to the party, she kept rearranging the presents and freaking out on people because everything had to be PERFECT
• I'm wasting a bullet point to say that the last one was a REALLY FUCKING LONG PARAGRAPH TO PUT IN BULLET POINT
• and now, just had the nephew's birthday.  No awkward questions about whether or not the train cake I was making would be recognizable as a train, no accusations that I wasn't putting enough effort into it, no rude yelling at other family members because the party wasn't perfect enough.  

So on one hand it was nice to not have to deal with psychotic grandma behavior, but I kinda feel sorry for my poor punkin nephew.  Niece is obviously the favorite.  When she misbehaves, it's "oh honey please don't do that, okay?" and then nobody notices that she turns right around and keeps doing whatever she was doing.  Nephew misbehaves and it's "NO!" and a spanking.  And while I realize that it's actually better to be a disciplinarian than to spoil a child and so in a perfect world nephew would grow up to be a much better person, I'm afraid the obvious favoritism is going to work against him and make him bitter.  It's already showing when the two kids are playing together. 

There are more stories.  It goes on and on.  She gets to travel with my folks, they never take him along and even said once that they're afraid they'd hurt her feelings if they took him... but they never think about if they're hurting his feelings by leaving him home! 

Anyway, my cake turned out well and I really wish I could have gotten a picture of the way my sweet little nephew's face lit up when he saw what I'd made.  That was pure joy.  But I had both hands holding the cake so no pictures.  Oh well, I remember what it was like and that made it all worthwhile to me!

And in the morning, I'm makin' waffles!

It's a good thing I have no desire to go into politics, because I'd get so much shit for being a waffler of epic proportions.  However I firmly believe that I am not really flipping sides so much as I am just one of those that is capable of seeing both sides of any argument.  I told the Designated Hitter tonight that I kinda think that there is a little lie in every truth and a little truth in every lie.  And then I proceeded to completely convince him that the sky is not blue.  And he believed me.

This was not the basis of my argument

You may be asking just exactly what my point is.  And if you know me, you know that's a stupid question because I have no idea what my point is.  No, wait, I do this time.  

I make fun of Hitter all the time for being a corporate stooge.  He loves the giant mega international corporation he works for, worships at the giant corporate altar, sometimes I think he likes the company more than he likes me.  He's a power-hungry, money-grubbing, corporate-ladder-climbing asshole.  And I've told him so, in those very words.  And whenever he gets all gooey lovey dovey about precious company, I always take the devil's advocate approach and point out the other side of the argument.  And then today, I actually defended the evil giant because someone I know went way out in left field and was making completely unfounded accusations against said company.  Hitter got home from work tonight and the first words I said to him were "I feel like such a whore" 

So, yeah.  I seem to waffle.  Or maybe I'm a hypocrite.  Wonderful, now I can't even make up my mind as to what exactly is wrong with me.  WTF?  One minute I hate belovedest corporation, the next I'm defending it.  But it just all depends on the argument being presented to me.  Because I see both sides of every argument, and I seem to be surrounded by people who are black-and-white thinkers.  (I think I mixed metaphors there.  I see colors?  I'm surrounded by one-side-viewing people?  You know what I mean!) 

And I may be a whore.

But at least I never got paid for all my random sex!

It's all pink...

Disclaimer: I am not intending to, in any way, diminish the seriousness of breast cancer or suggest that we shouldn't be aware of it.  Read on...

I've had it with all things Pink.  I refused to participate in those stupid little "let's make the men wonder what the hell we're talking about" games on Facebook that have very little to do with preventing or treating cancer (at least this year's... last year's was at least about bras.  but this year... seriously... purses?  my favorite was "I don't carry a purse, but I like to fuck in the shower") but aside from random childishness, what really pisses me off is that breast cancer awareness gets SOOOOOO much attention, and other very real causes get practically nothing.

Did you know that October is also Domestic Violence Awareness month?  I don't see everything being covered in bruise-covered ribbons (oooooh I'm going to hell for that one) Why is it everyone's so worried about the boobies but nobody seems to care about the fact that 1 in 4 people will be a victim of domestic violence at some point in their life? 

A couple years ago, I heard a rumor that some St Louians were trying to get the powers-that-be to light up the Arch with pink lights in October.  Why stop there, why not put a nipple on it?!

I would say they should build a second St Louis Boob, but it is cancer awareness after all...

Nobody ever suggested lighting up landmarks in recognition of the rampant drug problem in Missouri, the meth capital of the country.  

What finally put me over the edge though, was last Sunday when I flipped to an NFL game briefly.  I do not follow the NFL at all, which comes as a huge surprise to people who know how obsessed I am with college football.  Imagine my surprise when I saw all these big burly testosterone-overloaded men prancing around the gridiron with pink shoes and pink arm bands and whatnot.  Seriously.  Why is the NFL so into breast cancer awareness, but you never see them getting all excited about prostate cancer awareness?  (would that be a brown ribbon?!)  1. the NFL is watched by way more men than women, and 2. I'm pretty sure there are a hell of a lot more women feeling their chests for errant lumps than there are men shoving fingers up their asses to see if their prostate is still normal.

*image deleted  

Shouldn't we be promoting men's health on an event where men are the captive audience?  Like men need any more excuses to be grabbing our chests.  *sigh*  

Oooooh I know, maybe they should do Testicular Cancer Awareness... 

hee hee... balls... blue ribbon...

Like I said, I am not against the prevention and treatment of breast cancer.  I just think it sucks that some marketing genius has managed to take the Pink movement to pop-star status, while so many other serious concerns are completely ignored.   

Oh, giant squirrel balls reminded me: In case anyone is keeping score, the final tally of dead squirrels in the pool for 2010 was 8.   Five fished out of the skimmer basket, two free-floating on the surface of the water, and one had sunk to the bottom.  They've all been removed and chucked into the woods, and the pool has now been winterized..... thank goodness!

On a Wing and a Prayer

I usually like to listen to The Bob and Tom Show in the mornings.  Usually.  Somewhere around the 500th replay of the Camel Toe song (this week) it gets a bit monotonous, but for the most part I like it.  Okay so the overplay of that song was like 8 years ago, but bear with me.  (wait, I should clarify.  "I like it" meant the show, not the Camel Toe song.  fuck that)

Sometimes I get a bit huffy when they get on their high-horses about shit.  For instance, today they were talking about a story where someone (a person?  group?  I don't know) is suggesting "family sections" on airplanes.  I love this idea.  Kristi started in with the whole "NO!  You can't do that!  They can't do that.  Kids are wonderful!"  blah blah blah.  I'm in my car driving back from the grocery store and all I was getting so pissed off.  She may think that her kids are perfect and there are rainbows and unicorns and tra la la, but most kids are assholes.  (no offense if you have kids and they aren't assholes.  I'm making a sweeping generalization here)  (and for some reason I'm guessing her kids are assholes)

Front view, side view.  Two views.  Check!  No check, cash only (sorry, M*A*S*H quote there) 

Complete with Flying Cheerios in various degrees of mastication

And yes that's Designated Hitter in the first pic, reading a paper, ignoring me, with his elbow in my ribs

I hate flying

 The more I think about this, the more I like the family section idea.  And I have a way to put it into place.  Stick all the parents and kids at the back of the plane.  No wait, hear me out.  First of all, parents traveling with small children are allowed to board the plane first, right?  And when the rest of us uninteresting people board, we start at the back of the plane, right?  Well then we can kill two birds with one stone, and have the parents with the kids board the plane first and send their asses to the back.  Secondly, they'll be close to the bathroom.  There's a good plan.  Third, they're always such a pain in the ass when getting off the plane cuz they stand around forever packing up all the toys and games and crap and organizing their little anklebiters and slowing the rest of us down so if they're at the back of the plane, the rest of us can get off first while they're doing the repacking and whatnot.  And finally, the kids can just kick other kids' seats.  Or other parents (who would be completely oblivious to what their children were doing if they were sitting next to me)  

Now I realize it wouldn't block sound, so when they got to screaming we would all still hear it, but at least it would be from a bit of a distance instead of directly into my ear from point-blank range.  And maybe if bad parents were surrounded by other people's asshole children, they'd start to realize that their children are assholes too.  I doubt it, but it's worth a shot.  

I am totally in favor of family sections on airplanes.  Or maybe just don't ever make me fly anywhere again.  At least not commercial flights, my one experience on a private jet was freaking awesome.  Except that the private jet was owned by an asshole, but I tolerated him for the private flight to Cabo.  Totally worth it.  I should get my pilot's license and get a plane.  Oh if only I was independently wealthy.  *sigh* 

Hypocrites are Awesome

Let me just get this out in the open right now: yes I am aware that I have my moments of hypocrisy.  Everyone does.  I try to keep it in check as much as possible, but it happens.  Anyone who says that they are never a hypocrite is completely full of shit.  In fact, people who think they are never hypocrites are probably the worst.  Crap, I think I just made myself the worst there.  Okay I suck.

But here's the worst kind of hypocrisy - the kind against me!

Wait, umm, no.

Maybe.

I don't know.

Designated Hitter's sister is an interesting character.  Thankfully she likes me.  However, she's one of those people where you always wonder if she really likes you, and even if she does like you is she talking crap about you behind your back.  You should hear the way she talks about her own kids and her husband.

Anyway, I have never ever heard her say anything good ever about her father-in-law.  Ever.  Even in front of her husband, she's badmouthing him.  Well he passed away recently, and now Sis is just going on and on and on about how awful it is and thanks for all the support and love and prayers during this very awful time and how sad it is that he's gone and yadda yadda.  I know there's the whole "don't speak ill of the dead" thing, and it probably is really sad for her husband and kids, but seriously.  You made it pretty blatantly obvious that you didn't like the guy.  Don't pretend now that he was your best buddy.

There's a lot more in that family that makes me twitch.  Tons of stuff that makes me wonder what they say about me behind my back.  Kind of long stories that are difficult to explain (and even just this little story was starting to drive me nuts with pronouns) but I just had to vent about that.  Thank you, that'll be all.

Guano in my Belfry

Yep, I'm bat-shit crazy.  But so is everyone else, so it evens out. 

I apparently got a good night's sleep last night... for all of 5.5 hours.  Seriously, I'm less hypochondriac now than I have been in at least two weeks.  I need a massage though, my shoulders and the back of my head are pretty much twitching.

A brief rundown of all the insanity I am exposed to:

1. My family.  Same Shit Different Day.  Buffalo and the Prom Queen are still dating, and are apparently going on a vacation together.  Drinker and Flake still think this is all about them.  And Prima Donna and the Corporal still think they rule the roost.  To add insult to injury, they were given an honor in our little podunky town by other non-related people so they have even had a GROWTH in ego.  Just what they need.  (the insult and injury are to the rest of us, it really is an honor for them that I would have been excited about if it had been before now)

2. The wildlife.  Apparently the skunk moved out the day we set the traps, so we have caught no skunks.  Then my crazy trailer neighbor shot the groundhog, so I paid for traps to catch a non-existent animal.  Although something has dug out the groundhog hole again.  I'm thinking Quikrete down the hole.  And poison. Probably poison first, then Quikrete.

3. Fuck, there was supposed to be something else here but I forgot.  I'll get back to you. 

 4. Company.  Actually they aren't so insane.  Well, the first half of them anyway.  This weekend is high school girls weekend which isn't nearly as pedophile as it sounds.  Friends of mine who I went to high school with.  Not girls who are currently in high school!  We're going to drink a lot.  It will be fun.  I hope I don't die.  But as soon as they leave, Bran Flake is showing up.  Possibly meeting them in the driveway...  She and I usually have fun on our Mother-Daughter vacations, but that was before my family turned into a complete clusterfuck.  So.... yay? 

I should be cleaning the house to get ready for girls weekend.  Scratch that, I should be painting!  But so far in the last two days, I have a) picked blueberries, b) gone shopping (to Home Depot, but that counts, right?), c) taken a nap, d) gone out to supper with my ex-husband* and then went to his house for a couple hours, e) watched two movies, f) made slushie drinks (okay those are for girls weekend.  I'm making margarita slushes, bourbon slushes, and sloe gin slushes.  and possibly fruity margarita slushes too, the first batch was lime), and g) I am now heading out to the pool.  Umm, maybe I should mow first.  Although it's damned hot out (check local listings) so maybe I should procrastinate that just a little longer... till like 8:00 tonight.

I put the PRO in procrastinate.

If you are fully aware of the fact that you're crazy, does that mean you aren't really crazy?

*I don't really have an ex-husband.  I'm sure I'll explain that whole story another time.  

You're a better man than I

Back from the fun.  Err... funeral.  Whatever.  I actually enjoyed getting to meet a whole bunch of relatives that I didn't even know existed.  Lots of weird coincidences were uncovered this weekend but I'm saving them for another post.  (I make that promise a lot, don't I?)

In case you haven't picked up on this yet, Designated Drinker and Bran Flake are... hypocritical? conceited? nuts?  Example: Drinker used to have this best friend... they were such good friends that we all joked that they were boyfriends.  Even Drinker and friend would joke about it.  But then one day that friend went and filed for divorce.  There's a super long story to it, but it does not include him being actually gay.  Anyway Drinker has treated this guy like shit ever since.  Avoids him, never invites him to go tailgating or golfing or anything with their big circle of friends.  Seriously, it's not even just the one-on-one stuff, Drinker has done his best to alienate him from the whole crowd.

Believe it or not, the guy actually drove 2 hours one-way to come to the funeral this weekend.  And even then Drinker didn't say much to him.  I was floored that
1. he even bothered to come, and
2. my stupid ass father couldn't pull his head out of his ass long enough to carry on a conversation

If it was me, I wouldn't have shown up.  If anyone treated me the way he's been treated, I woulda been all

*I created a "Use Frequently" folder for this picture

And I really would have been like that considering Drinker's own kid has also filed for divorce from his wife (although it's on hold.  I think.  I can't keep up) Holy hypocrite Batman!  You'd think he'd be able to bury the hatchet and make friendly again, all things considered.  

Apparently my parents still think they're superior, even though they're just the same as everyone else.  

Edit from WAAAAAAAAAY into the future: apparently they've at least somewhat made up.  Last time I was back home Drinker and the former "boyfriend" were at least talking and being nice.  Still not nearly as close as they used to be, but no longer being an asshole at least!  It's a start.