Why you shouldn't be a prostitute

It's funny the things you see when you take your 10 year old daughter out for a shopping trip and a snack.

The husband and I have a date night this weekend and I wanted a pair of fancy black tights to go with my dress. My daughter loves to shop, even if it's just window shopping, so I took her with me.  It was a quick trip to Target, even though I did walk out with more than I planned.  A quick trip like this doesn't usually work up an appetite, but by the time GG and I hit the check out, she was "staaaarrrrrr-ving!!!"  My skinny little girl can eat like the typical teenage boy!

After paying, we headed over towards the snack bar when she said she wanted mac 'n' cheese.  You have to get the whole kids meal to get mac 'n' cheese and I wasn't doing that.  I told her we would drive down the road and stop at Sheetz.  They have mac 'n' cheese.

We drove down the road, avoiding construction cones and pot holes that seem to be on every. stinkin. road in this forsaken city.  As I went to make the turn into Sheetz, I noticed the light show provided by a local police car.  I assumed someone was pulled over for blowing a red light or speeding, but as I drove by, I noticed a young woman being cuffed.

In an effort to distract GG who likes all things sparkly and flashy, I started telling her about all the trips to Sheetz I made when I was younger and the crazy food I got with my friends.  She laughed at me, but I did not sway her from the decision to eat mac 'n' cheese.  We ordered, paid, and GG asked if we could sit at one of the tables outside so she could eat her food while it was still hot.  Assuming the light show was gone because once your arrested, everyone pretty much leaves the scene, I said yes.  I assumed wrong.

Sitting at the table outside is when I realized that we were witnessing an undercover prostitution bust.  Why?  Let me explain...

A total of 3 vehicles were pulled over.  The first, a gray car.  The driver was a plain clothed police man/  The second, a minivan.  The driver of said minivan was handed papers from the uniformed police man in vehicle number 3.  Minivan man was also told to drive off after the girl was cuffed.  Upon closer inspection of the girl, her booty shorts and too-small tank could have fit my 10 year old!  Am I again making assumptions?  Probably.  But it sure was funny watching her argue with the cops from the back of the patrol car, while trying to wriggle out of the cuffs.  I really hope the minivan man wasn't married.  Then it would be a sucky night for both of them.

I realize it's cruel of me to laugh at other's misfortune, but this situation is why you should never be a prostitute.  Or try to pick one.  Or if you are a prostitute or pick one up, don't get caught!

Safe, but at what cost?

My oldest recently turned 10, but even when she was a toddler, I knew I didn't want to be a parent like my dad was. Don't get me wrong, my father was a great man and a great parent, but we definitely had our moments. One thing him and I disagreed on was a certain friend of mine. Her and I formed our bond in third grade. As high school approached, she had numerous piercings and watched shows like 90210 and Melrose Place. He deemed her a bad influence.

I never wanted to be a parent like that where I told my children who they could or couldn't be friends with. In light of recent events, I fear this may have to happen.

A few Fridays ago, GG's friend called asking her to join her at a high school football game. It had been a while since the two girls hung out so I helped GG bundle up, shoved a few bills in her pocket, and sent her on her way. Little Dude was upset he couldn't join the girls. It had been a long day and I just wasn't up for dealing with the noise of the game along with the chilly Fall weather. I didn't realize until later in the evening that this game was the last of the season.

Little did I know that our high school football team would win that last game and make it the playoffs. The following Friday, GG's friend called once again inviting her to the game. Once again I bundled her up, shoved a few bills in her pocket, and sent her on her way.

Immediately after I turned to Little Dude and told him to bundle up as we were going to the game as well. When Little Dude and I arrived at the stadium, I asked him to pick a seat. We would try to find his sister, but that didn't mean we would sit with her and her friend. It's a struggle for me, but I am trying to give my daughter more independence.

We spotted GG and her friend a few sections over. We made our way over to let her know we were there. As I sat down, I began to look for her friend's father. I assumed he had gone to the concession stand for treats or hot chocolate. Perhaps he even went up the hill behind the bleachers where you are allowed to smoke. As the first quarter of the game came to a close, the friend's father had yet to show.

This was when I made the realization that he had dropped the two then 9 year old girls at the stadium by themselves. This was also the time I began to freak out.

We have been to our high school's football games in the past. It is a very family friendly environment and being a small community, most people know each other. Regardless, "you never know who is out there" and "it only takes a second" kept running through my head. Especially when the girls went off the play with friends behind the end zone where it's not as well lit. I know our team won the game and I did see some of the big plays, but for the most part I was keeping an eye on the girls.


I know this family has been through a lot over the past few years. This friend and her sister lost their mom to cancer. It is now just the girls and their dad. But that doesn't make it right to let them have free reign to do as they please, without the supervision of a responsible adult.

Sadly, because of other things I hear these girls are permitted to do, I don't feel that talking to their dad would make much of a difference. Right now I feel my only option is to limit where my daughter is allowed to go with her friend. My daughter, at 10, still sees the world as a perfect place. Yes, she knows there are bad people out there, but she has yet to understand how serious and how devastating it can be to run into those people.


I only want to keep her safe, but I do not like some of the decisions I have to make to ensure that.

Can't You See?

I don't always understand those around me and the decisions they make, but I make it a point to learn, empathize, or hopefully begin to understand. Lately, I have run into more people that I care to count who can't seem to look past their noses. They assume I, and my loved ones, would do things the way they would. They assume that we will side with them and turn against flesh and blood. I do not understand those who can't see around themselves. No matter how hard I try, I don't think I ever will.


I will never understand my aunt's claims to be the victim. No matter what she says, she will never make me believe. She is not the victim. She is the controller. She is the one who drives people away. Playing victim to those too kind to tell her the truth will never be acceptable to me.


I will never understand those who think I can drop everything to cater to them. My family and I were invited to a wedding. My mother-in-law planned for months the outfits she would buy my children only to find out last minute they are not invited. Upon my mother-in-law's request, or demand depending on your point of view, we opted out of attending this wedding. Because of those I failed to mail back my RSVP. My MIL, who has been avoiding their calls out of hurt for a week, finally caved and picked up the phone. She explained to the bride's grandmother my family and I cannot go to the wedding because no one is available to watch our children. The grandmother asked if my mother could watch them for the night.

How lovely it would be to have my mother, or anyone, available at the drop of a hat so I can have a much needed night out with adults. But that is not my life and she shouldn't assume that it is.


I will never understand those who believe a charitable donation should only be given to a certain group of people.

My borough is small, yet at the elementary level, it is divided in two. My children's school tries every year to raise money for a local family in need. It is a game for the students. A game they greatly enjoy. And they are all made aware of what they are doing - helping those in need. The family we are helping this year lives on the other side of the borough. How crass of someone, a teacher, to say we should help a family on our side of the borough instead. To me, that is like saying we should only support troops overseas who come from our town.


Quite often I judge and I do so too fast. I keep those opinions to myself so I can open my ears, not my mouth. My judgements may be wrong, but I will never know unless I give the time to learn more about those around me. But no matter how hard I listen, some people I will never understand.

Nebby pickers

My midgets were supposed to be cleaning up their mess in the living. What was actually happening was them asking a thousand and one questions about a truck parked across the street.

Our neighbor's ex (I think) has a truck. Perhaps it was him. Mr. Shortman across the street has a too big truck. Perhaps he was, yet again, trying to get it into his driveway in one attempt.

At first I tried to ignore the questions, but being nebby myself, their questions got the better of me. I finally looked out the window. A white truck was parked across the street. I finally asked question one thousand and two - where was the driver?

The driver was on our side of the street with his passenger looking though people's trash. Of course! Why didn't we think of trash pickers in the first place?!

By the looks of what was in the bed of that truck, I assumed they were looking for scrap metal and such that they could turn around and make some money from. But then I took a closer look.





I don't know about you, but I see a metal headboard, a couch, perhaps a dresser, and I do believe that's a washer and dryer set sticking out of the back. Upon further inspection, I noticed the washer, dryer, and couch were all bungeed to the truck. Because bungee cords are going to keep all that heavy stuff in place as they drive up the hill.

I'm so glad I was in my house at the time and not in the car behind them!

White knuckles

I must admit I had so much fun writing Friday's post, Time to Let Go. Reading all the link ups for Writing On Edge that day was also a blast. It's amazing how much meaning can fit into 140 characters.

I know I left those who visited hanging because I didn't explain what I was referring to. It was interesting reading what everyone guessed. Many guesses were for a child's first ride on a roller coaster. Since I am a coaster fanatic, that wasn't it. Only one person guessed correctly, and that was CDG from Move Over Mary Poppins.

There were also many guesses that my tweet post was a parenting metaphor. In a way, this was true. Those who guessed that make me want to write a completely different post about letting my children go as they grow, especially with today being their first day back at school (hallelujah!!). Perhaps I'll save that idea for another time.

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I don't remember having many fears as a young child. My mom always tells me the story of her and I going to the World's Fair in New Orleans when I was a few years old. My uncle, who happened to be afraid of heights, took me on the monstrous ferris wheel. Me bobbing around checking out all the sights from that height certainly didn't do anything to calm his nerves.

A few years later, this all changed. My mom met my dad and the three of us started doing things as a family. This included going to a local carnival. My dad loved to take me on the ferris wheel. From the carnival at my school, you could see my Grandma's house from the top. If him and I were lucky enough to get stopped at the very top, he would distract me by pointing out my Grandma's house. As I would look to find it, he would start to rock the car we were sitting in. I quickly grew to hate ferris wheels.

Now that I am grown with my own children, I love to take them to carnivals. However, I rarely take them on the ferris wheel unless I absolutely have to. I have had operators ask me if they need to stop the ride because my white knuckles gripping the safety bar match the color of my face.


Last week was the annual carnival at the church by our house. I took the kids up earlier in the week to check out the flea market and play a few games. Later in the week, the husband joined us. The kids wanted to ride the ferris wheel and he knows it's his job to go on that ride with them.

While we were there, we ran into my friend J, her kids, and another friend of theirs. The next 2 hours were spent watching our kids bebop between all the rides and games. Our boys, who are 5 and 6, kept asking to ride the ferris wheel. J feels the same way about that ride as I do, so we did everything we could to distract them. Finally we couldn't take anymore of their begging.

Our girls and another friend they ran into proclaimed they were riding that horrible ride together. J and I decided to let our boys ride with the other friend who was already in our group. He is older than our boys so we knew they would all be fine. It was us who were worried.

We watched our boys stand in line, proudly holding their little red tickets. As I watched them board the ride, I felt my heart jump into my throat. My knuckles turned white around the prizes I was holding as I watched them go up, up, all the way to the top. Our boys peered over the edge to try and find us below. I wanted to scream out "Sit down and hold on!"

Down, down they came and I realized it was time for me to let go.

My son is 6, but he is still the baby. As much as I miss the days when he (and his sister) crawled around the house, I know that I need to let them go and watch them grow.

Can you smell that smell?

I've decided that I need to get in touch with a local news station. Surely someone is aware of when these days occur and the public needs to know about them.

Yesterday was asshole driver day. It would have been awesome if someone let me know about that ahead of time. If there wasn't an accident, than someone broke down. Both were causing all kids of crazy traffic.

On a side note, the accidents I passed were all minor.

If the situation wasn't one of the two mentioned, than it was some moron cutting me off or riding my ass. And those idiots who ride your ass, why do they always have to flash their lights? Switching lanes would be so much easier for all parties involved. Hopefully soon, someone will allow me to install headlights on the back of my car so I can lash them right back. The finger doesn't seem to do much to help the situation!

I think most people experience one, or all of those on a daily basis. Especially if you drive as much as I do. But yesterday was just ridiculous! But just when I thought I saw it all, I came across the asshole of all assholes!

I'm sitting at a red light in the middle of downtown when my car is suddenly filled with this weird and unpleasant odor. At first it reminded me of a skunk, but different. If that makes any sense. Then I thought maybe one of the midgets took their shoes off. Yes, their feet can kill! When they both asked what the smell was, I realized it wasn't them.

While trying to figure out what was going on, our light turned green. The car in front of us started to go, but almost turned onto the wrong side of the street. The driver quickly corrected himself and we proceeded to the same light. While sitting at that light, I could still smell something odd. Just before the light turned, I noticed the passenger of said car on front of us passing something to the driver.

All I'm saying is that I may not be as innocent as I look. I've done a few things in the past and I know what certain things look like. That was definitely NOT a cigarette being passed around that car!

Once I made the connection, it was not as easy as I thought explaining what that odor was to the kids without directly saying "They're smoking weed in the car in front us and the smell is drifting back to us".

Lucky for them, and hopefully everyone else n the road, they turned (illegally) before I could grab a pen. I'm not quick to call the cops, but I surely would have called for that!

Why do people have to turn into complete morons when they get behind the wheel?

An unintentional stop

My flight home was due to leave at 8 in the morning. I didn't want to leave the happiest place on Earth, but it was time for me to come home.

I arrived at the airport at 6. After I checked my bags, I sat in the lobby watching the pinks and purples in the sky turn to shades of blue.

My flight had a layover in Atlanta, Georgia. From there it was a straight shot to Pittsburgh. My estimated time of arrival was shortly after noon. My best friend was picking me up from the airport. I had only been gone a week, but I couldn't' wait to see her.

Once I was safe on the ground in Georgia, I quickly figured out which gate I needed to go to. At the time I expected a 30 minute wait, but once I arrived at my gate I realized how wrong I was. The pilots who were supposed to take me home had decided that of all mornings, this would be the one when they chose to go on strike.

I had the option of purchasing a ticket for another airline, or waiting for my original airline to find me another flight. Having just spent all my money at the Magic Kingdom, I was unable to buy a ticket for a thousand dollars. I was forced to wait. While pacing up and down the short hallway it occurred to me that I had to inform my friend that she shouldn't meet me at our airport at noon. This was before cell phones, so I had to use a pay phone to call her. Remember those?

I should also inform you that this was before smoking was banned from inside buildings.

I entered the pay phone room. Three of the dingy cream colored walls were lined with phones. The fourth was made of glass with an opening no wider than your average door frame. Every single person on those phones were just as frustrated as me. What does a smoker do when frustrated? Light one up. There were no windows nor any kind of ventilation. It was all I could do not to gag. And I was a smoker.

After what felt like hours, but was really closer to one, a flight had been found for me. But it wouldn't take me home. Yet another layover was added to my adventure. A detour, you could say. To New York.

I was informed that once in New York, my layover would be a quick one. I would be home before I knew it. What no one realized was that Pittsburgh was experiencing a rainy and thunderous apocalypse. This meant more waiting, more pacing, more phone calls, and much begging for "Delayed" to switch to "Now boarding".

After 2 hours of waiting, I was finally on my way back home. My flight from Laguardia to Pittsburgh International was the shortest of the 3, yet the most frightening. I have never experienced turbulence before than, and I have no desire to experience it ever again. My head bounced off the window like a red rubber ball more times than I can count. Suitcases from the overheads were thrown to the ground. Once stepping off that plane at 6 pm, it took everything I had not to kiss the solid ground I was walking on.

That is one detour I hope to never have to do again.

This week's Red Writing Hood assignment is to write - fiction or non-fiction - about a time when you took a detour. Where had you intended to go and where did you end up?


Orlando to Atlanta to Pittsburgh, with an unintentional stop in New York. I would just like to point out that I have now been to not one, but two New York airports and have yet to see any other part of the city. Hopefully someday I can. But I think I'll drive.

Jules' List - for sale

FREE - YOU HAUL


For sale - Snow


Quantity taken must not be less than what is in my yard. You are more than welcome to take more. I'm sure the neighbors won't mind.

Most of the snow is crisp and white, like fresh pressed linens. Some of it even has the appearance of glitter, like your carpet when your kids are done "creating". I can not guarantee that there will not be brown, or even yellow snow in the mix. I would not attempt to eat the snow because of that.

The snow is just at the right consistency for making the best possible snowman. If you choose to take enough, you might even be able to top this guy...

Yes, this is an actual snowman
from my neighborhood.
See how much fun you could have?!

You must hurry if you want to take advantage of this incredible deal. We have greatly enjoyed the snow, but we are well aware that not everyone has the opportunity to make snow angels and throw snowballs.

This one time opportunity is only valid for 24 hours. After that time period has expired, this ad will be taken down and replaced with one for the mud that will soon consume what was my yard.



The children are optional. They are hard workers ad love to shovel snow. If interested, I can throw them in for $28 dollars. I need to pay off my Girl Scout cookies. Wait, better make that $40. The Thin Mints are looking kind of low and might need restocked.

If you are interested, please call 754 - FU2 -SNOW

Gratitude. Or not

I was all prepared to write a gratitude post. But I'm not really sure I'm in the mood for it now.


If there's one thing I've learned it's that people, myself included, love to talk about the weather. This especially holds true when snow is involved. When it is snowing somewhere, I see all kinds of tweets and Facebook statuses about it. I am very thankful that my Facebook/Twitter friends talk about the snow. Why, you ask? Most of you live to the west of me. Your updates give me a heads up as to what's to come my way. I like being prepared.

Monday night I noticed a few updates about snow starting to fall or parents getting phone calls that school has already been cancelled. This led me to check out the forecast for me. Once my computer decides to cooperate and the Weather Channel's page loads, I see a bright orange message plastered on the top of the page.

That right there does not make me happy!

I clicked and it turns out that this possible storm could hit Tuesday, going into Wednesday and give us up to 6 inches of snow. Now compared to Snowmageddon of last February, 6 inches is nothing. It's when it could hit that could screw me. And probably will.

I do NOT want a repeat of this

So to all my Facebook and Twitter friends out there, thanks for the heads up. To Mother Nature, screw you! Just because I finally have snow boots does not mean I actually want to use them in the snow.

Magic Tricks

Thursdays? They suck. Words cannot express how much I hate Thursdays, so we'll just leave it as that days sucks big hairy donkey balls. If you want me to be more specific, I'll zone in on the first Thursday of each month. If this keeps up for another few months, I may end up in a padded room.

Let me break it down for you...

Noon- leave to pick up the husband
2pm - return from getting the husband
2:50- get boy from school
3:30 - get girl from school
4pm- take husband to work conference (on the other side of town, during rush hour!)
5:50- head to Girl Scouts
7:45- leave from Scouts to pick up the husband (on the other side of town, with snow covered roads!)
9pm- return home, finish homework, send midgets to bed


In those 9 hours I had two 20 minute blocks of time where I had to start the homework and try to find something that was dinner appropriate. Leftover pizza totally counts as nutritious, right?

And if running around like a chicken with my head cut off isn't amusing enough, I had to sit in a room for 90 minutes with 7 girls who have no clue how to STFU! I was taught to listen to and respect adults. Apparently parents don't teach their kids this anymore.


We were making our final drive home. My head was pounding from the incessant chatter from 7 girls, my stomach was eating itself I was so hungry, and I had to drive slow due to the snow. A little voice chimes in from the backseat. "Mom, when are we having dinner?"

If someone can teach me how to magically pull an extra hour or two out of my ass, please let me know.

Is Christmas really magical?

Christmas can be a magical time of year.

The houses all adorned with beautiful displays of lights. The radio stations play all of your favorite Christmas songs. If you're lucky and live in the right part of the country, you may just wake to freshly fallen snow on Christmas morning. Christmas is a time to spend with family, enjoying good company and good food.

This may all be true, but after the age of 10, Christmas really isn't all that magical. My house may have a beautiful tree



but getting to that point was almost not possible. I about pulled out all of my hair trying not to have the midgets break all of the ornaments. As you can tell by the lovely quality of the picture, even my camera was tired of trying to get in the mood.


The radio stations? I really do love hearing certain songs, but let's face it. Some Christmas songs are just down right weird. Like "Santa looks a lot like Daddy". I'll make sure the midgets listen to that song!


As for freshly fallen snow? I don't care how beautiful it looks. It sucks! When you're 30-some years old, it is no longer fun to bundle up and play in the snow. You want me to go sled riding with you? It's cold out there! Hell no! I'll watch you from the window of the nice warm dining room, thank you very much!

And after last year



I'm happy to never see snow again! Although Mother Nature apparently disagrees with me. Bitch!


I remember as a kid being so excited that Christmas was almost here. Looking at it from the end of a parent, it's not so exciting. The excitement inside those little bodies of my midgets is slowly killing me. Right now I will gladly let them watch tv or play on the computer all day if it means I can have some peace and quiet. The holiday break next week may very well be the end of me!

Did you notice I left out the part of what it's like to spend time with family as an adult? That was on purpose because we all realize what our families are like. Even if you think you have a great and perfect family, there's always 1 in there that screws everything up!

All I have to say is I may very well indulge in some beers when I'm at my aunt and uncle's house for Christmas Eve. I'm not a beer drinker, but all this "excitement" might lead me to do it.

Cats and the supernatural

Since my new toy hasn't come in the mail yet, I think I'll tell you about our cat.

Not ours
but close enough
Courtesy of Google

Approximately 6 or 7 years ago we noticed a black cat in our neighborhood. It seemed fairly nice and was drawn to our backyard. Mostly because the husband was a sucker and would give it all kinds of attention.

This cat appeared to be full grown, so we knew there was no way to domesticate it. Also, we had a baby is the house who was the product of a man with allergies. Being a new mom, I didn't need to add anything extra to my workload. So we just enjoyed it's company when it came to visit.

The cat was known to hang out in the neighbors yards as well, but like I said, it seemed to prefer ours. I should probably mention at this point that the husband thought it was a good idea to feed the cat. Lovely, right?

Days would go by with no sight of her. Him? We never really looked into that, so for the sake of the story, we'll say the cat was female. Then she would show up for some food and attention. We grew rather found of our cat and over time the kids enjoyed the extra company, too.

About a month ago, our cat had passed away. We knew she was getting up there in age and we knew the inevitable was bound to happen. As I said, she wasn't really our cat, but we did enjoy the company she brought.

In the few weeks after the cat had passed, I swore up and down that she was still there. At night I would hear noises as if something was walking on our back hill. The sound wasn't heavy enough to be a person or a large animal, like a deer. The logical side of me thought it was the leaves falling, since it was Fall. But the ghost lover side of me thought otherwise. I never felt threatened. I felt that, if this was the cat, maybe she wasn't ready to move on yet. Soon after, I stopped hearing the noises.


Last Saturday I was at my sister-from-another-mister's house for a get together with some friends. I got home rather late, but before I went to bed, I stepped outside for a bit. The first thing I noticed were tiny cat footprints in the newly fallen snow. The direction of the prints were towards the porch. I searched and could not find footprints anywhere else in the yard. I have seen other wild cats through the years. Maybe that was it, but I found it rather odd to not find any prints leaving the porch.

You can call me crazy for believing in all that ghost stuff, but I take comfort in the thought that our cat is still gracing us with her presence.

Happy Holidays

I realize that my past few posts haven't been the most uplifting. I was in my thinking place and quite often it helps to put it all out there and get some other perspectives. To those who left me your thoughts and opinions, I thank you.


Now moving on...

This is supposed to be a joyful time of year, full of love and smiles. I would like to share with you one of my favorite sights that always puts a smile on my face.


My favorite Christmas commercial...

For those unfamiliar with where I'm from,
the commercial is from a local restaurant.

And for those of you who celebrate Hannukah. Chanukkah? Um, is there really a right way to spell it? Anywho, happy Hanukkah!

Holidays suck

If you're looking for a holly jolly holiday post full of rainbows and unicorns, then you're in the wrong spot. The title of this post should have given that away.

So I'm sorry to disappoint if you're full of holiday cheer. Quite frankly, I am not. What started my Scrooginess were the people who put their Christmas crap out the day after Halloween. Really?! What the hell?! I don't care if the weather is nice. Eat your damn turkeys first people. Part of the "fun" of putting those stupid lights out is doing it in the cold!

Although I will point out that driving around my neighborhood can make you chuckle. A few blocks from me there's a house with a big ass inflatable snowman. Not only was I laughing my ass off at it because it was almost 80 degrees outside, but across the street is a house with an inflatable turkey. Right on, people! Turkeys first!




Enough of my mindless gobble over the damn turkeys. Let's move onto another holiday. This holiday would be Hanukkah. Right here and now I would like to ask every single fucking retailer out there...

Where the hell is your Hanukkah stuff?!?

I'm not Jewish myself, but I do take notice of the lack of Hanukkah stuff. Every. Single. Year!

This year is a little different. A little more stressful. I have family coming in. This coming weekend to be exact. My cousin, her husband, and their new baby. I am beyond excited to see them and finally meet their sweetheart, but I am pulling my hair out over the whole event. That is not the way I want to get rid of the grey that's creeping in.




You see, my cousin is in fact Jewish. I thought it would be a good idea to get her and the baby something for Hanukkah while they were here. It's easier that way. I am too cheap to pay for shipping anyway. And the people at our post office? Assholes!

I have a feeling they do not need another menorah. Plates or napkin rings? Not very personal gifts. And that's about all I have to choose from.

Since I'm all crafty, I thought maybe I could make something. I think there were about as many patterns in my search results as there are gift choices in the stores. Thanks a lot Google!

So where exactly do Jewish people shop for Hanukkah? If I can't figure this out within the next 48 hours, it looks like generic winter themed ornaments are what they'll get.

Made for TV

I realize that sometimes I make mountains out of mole hills, but this time it really is a mountain!

Once a week for the past month, maybe 2, there has been a mountain of trash a few doors up from me.

It's not really that extreme,
but some weeks it doesn't seem too far off.

It started with the new neighbors 2 months ago. I still can't figure out why someone would have so much shit to throw away after moving in. Isn't is typical to throw stuff out before you pack it?

Or maybe that's just me.

New neighbors' pile o' shit seems to have subsided, but I think they triggered something with the family who lives between us. Just like me, this family lives in half a duplex. There's is a 3 bedroom I do believe, but it's still not much bigger than our dinky 2 bedroom.

Every week there are numerous bags of trash. And I don't mean the Febreze scented, extra stretchy bags you have in your kitchen that give you wind-blown hair when you open them. I'm talking about heavy duty, giant contractor bags. FYI ~ the contractor bags are 40 gallons. You could fit a small child in that sucker. Actually a lot of small children!

Add to the pile of bags some boxes, miscellaneous furniture, and/or car parts. I walk back into my house and wonder "Where the fuck is all that shit coming from?!"


As of today, I am convinced that they belong here.


Oh, that reminds me. I have my own bags o' crap that need taken to the curb. It was birthday weekend around here. Maybe my pile o' crap can give theirs a run for their money!

Um, you do realize that's not actually my house?
Do you think I would post it if it really was?

Fingers and a tight squeeze

The husband and I have had quite a few, shall we say, discussions about stickers on the car. In the end, I won. I always win. Or at least I think so.

I only put 2 on the back window. And they're small. Being a Pittsburgh girl who bleeds black and gold, naturally those stickers are for the Steelers and the Penguins.

Or so I thought.



Today I realized that those stickers must be some sort of beacon calling all dumbass drivers to my vicinity. I swear I crossed paths with every dumbass driver in the tri-state area today. But the worst was the idiot who ran me off the road.

Yes, you read that right. I think some poor soul has my tire marks in their yard now.


I just picked the midgets up from school and we were on our way to get the husband from work. To avoid the over abundance of unnecessary stop lights and traffic, I took the back streets. One of these streets is not very long, but it is narrow. Two cars can fit, but it's tight.

I'm halfway down when this fool in his pick-up whips around the corner at the bottom. I stop because I can't move until he does. He stops because he can't move until I do. I sure as shit wasn't backing up that narrow street. So there I sat. He must have looked in every direction but out the front windshield and fiddled with every gadget before he finally stared me down.

I continued to sit. He had more room to maneuver than I did anyway. I finally backed up a bit so I could move my car over for him. There may or may not have been a few flip-offs on my part in that process.




No sooner do I put the car in drive to move closer to the side does he start to barrel up the road. The fucker came within inches of my car. Had I not driven into some person's yard, I would have been missing a headlight. If not more.

As if simultaneously scaring the shit out of me and pissing me off wasn't enough, he thinks it's a good idea to stop right next to me, roll down his window, and give me a good "Fuck you". My Irish temper is overflowing by this point, so naturally, I gave him one back.


Let's just hope the midgets don't go to school tomorrow and tell all their friends "Fuck you"! In my defense he said it first!

TGIF

I could just leave it at that. Yes, it's been a long week.

A friend of mine is pregnant and is due today. She suckered me into helping her with some stuff at the school. I am more than happy to help her out, but paperwork and number crunching are not my friends in the morning. Pre-coffee!

There's been a lot of other things this week, which is why I am participating in

hosted by
Boobies, Babies, & A Blog
and I'm Just Sayin'

Fawk you to my husband! I love you more than the world, but really? Could you keep a closer eye on your Sharpies? We have a 5 year old who loves to color. On himself!



Fawk you policemen! Do you really need to ride my ass and make me think you're pulling me over?

Policeman #1~ I'm assuming because you have that special car with the lights you think it's ok to drive as fast as you want. You might as well have been in the backseat of my car. I ignored that fact that my heart was pounding so hard I thought it would fly out the front window and switched lanes. Thank you for going past me and not pulling me over. But why did you pass all the cars in front of me, only to slow down after you passed them? Were they not worthy of your asinine driving and lights?

Policemen #2~ You actually had your lights on the whole time so I knew you were going somewhere. And fast! Thank you so much for not pulling me over, but again, why did you have to come right up on my ass? I was trying to switch lanes for you. Maybe you didn't see the big ass green bus right next to me in the other lane? I was going as fast as I could to move out of your way!


Fawk you other cars on the road! Please learn how to merge! The sign says "yield', not "stop". There was no one coming. In other words, no need to slam on your breaks. Dumbass!

Speaking of slamming on your breaks, fawk you to the driver who felt the need to do this. At a green light! What the hell?! I really didn't enjoy the lack of a car in the beginning of our marriage. Please don't make me go through that again!


Yes, it was a bad driver week. I seriously need my own lane. Who do I need to talk to about that?




I'm also linking up with One Crazy Brunette Chick. Plain and simple, her blog rocks!

How I got in the news

I was in the news!

And not for something bad! Or not something I did that was bad.

Like the other day when...



Wait a minute! You can't get me to spill all the beans! This isn't about what I may or may not have done!

It's about this...



That's a little snippet from the article. If you want to see the whole article, complete with a video, to prove I'm not bullshitting you, GO HERE.

Just don't blow my cover and start giving out all my personal info, k?

Public transportation has had some drastic cuts lately. It makes me thankful that I can stay at home with the midgets. Especially now that they're in school. Peace and quiet is truly a blessing!

When I was working, that public transportation is what got me to and from my job. It was absolutely necessary for me to work back then and if those bus routes were cut a few years ago, we would have been up shit creek without a paddle!

So how did I get in the news in the first place? While I was waiting for something I needed to finish drying in the dryer, I decided to do some Facebooking. One of the local news stations is on Facebook like white on rice! One of their recent status updates asked how these recent route cuts are effecting people. They asked that replies be emailed to the station.

I just had to give my 2 cents. If I had to take a bus anywhere now, it would be damn near impossible. But my main reason for emailing was to explain that I see a lot of people I used to ride with waiting at different stops. And cutting these routes overcrowds the buses even more than they already were in the first place.

So I emailed the station. Shortly after I receive a reply asking if I would be interested in a brief interview. After a few back and forth messages and a few phone calls, the news reporter will stop by my house around 2:15.

After the shock of getting myself in the news to begin with, the panic set in. I did a quick clean up in the living room in case he wanted to come in. Thank god for Febreeze and closets! And he could go no further than that room! Then I realized I was still in my sweat pants, hair pulled up in a sloppy mess, and no make-up. I refused to be one of *those* people on the news that looked like they just came from the pages of People of WalMart!

I spent 45 minutes getting myself and the living room prettied up only to have the reporter and his camera man here for 10 minutes. But it was worth it to see myself on tv!