Rules for Re-Gifters

I’m sure some of you have been the victim of a re-gift. I have. I despise getting gifts in the first place but nothing irks me more than getting someone else’s gift wrapped garbage. Re-gifters irritate me so much because they're not only lazy, but tacky as hell. Do me a favor and keep your crap. I’m not here to be an outlet for you to get rid of the shit you've been hoarding since 1984. Another major thing that irritates me about re-gifters is the fact they they think I'm stupid and that I won't know I've been the victim of a re-gift; therefore, I have devised a list of tips for re-gifters to help them get away with their trashiness.

1)       Keep it in this century. Unless it’s a priceless diamond passed down through the family, keep it to yourself. I don’t want your old Red Skelton VHS tapes and I’m damn sure not going to watch them. That creepy plush doll that you got out of a Happy Meal 40 years ago can stay at your pad too, cause I’m not really into storing other people’s useless shit. If you want a middle-man to throw away your garbage, look elsewhere, cause it’s not me. Furthermore, I will figure out a way to get this crap back into your house, so help me God.

2)       Anything that is NEW and fragile will come in a box. Hey, moron! That Norman Rockwell knock-off figurine you wrapped in a sock and put into a gift bag isn't fooling anybody. Stores put breakables into BOXES when they are purchased. Same goes with the glass picture frame you tried to pass of as new by wrapping in tissue paper. BUSTED! Unless you shop lifted that thing from a shelf at the Hallmark store, it aint new. If you don’t want it, throw it away yourself. I’m not your maid.

3)       Don’t set bad precedents. If your manners are so bad that you never remove price tags from gifts, you’re already putting a target on your back. This is nothing new. Even gift receipts don’t show the price on them, so why the hell do you think it’s polite to leave the price tags on everything you give people? It doesn't make you look good for spending $9.99 on a pair of socks. It makes you look like you were raised in a barn for leaving the price tag on those socks. Setting an already bad precedent like this will only magnify your lack of couth when you attempt to re-gift because your victims will become used to looking for the price of their gifts. If you are bad about leaving the prices on gifts, don’t try to pass off that slightly moth-eaten wool sweater in your closet as a Christmas gift to your son-in-law because the lack of a price tag will be a red flag that you re-gifted that shit. Plus you'll embarrass your daughter for being a cheapskate hobo.

4)       CHANGE THE NAME. For the love of God, do I have to think of everything?? Don’t you think your brother is going to notice that the name tag on those rock hard, used, gardening gloves isn't his? This should be a given, but, sadly, it isn't. I’d love to blame the public school system in this country, but this kind of density can only be learned at home. So unless you come from a home with a lovable patriarch by the name of “Cousin Eddie”, don’t do this. Hey! Seriously, don’t do it.

5)       Be Honest. Okay, so your best friend is a big loudmouth and she called you out for re-gifting that hideous Christmas ornament your mother gave you 5 years ago. You know, the reindeer with the felt peeling off of its antlers and the flattened snout from being shoved into a box since 2008.  Don’t try to lie your way out of it. You’re caught, so own up to it and don't make it worse by making up some lame lie to cover for yourself.

If you have any other pointers for these lazy turds, please feel free to share in the comments!

Fry Phil

This is my take on the whole Phil Robertson “hiatus” from Duck Dynasty. I will go ahead and put myself out there for avid ridicule by those who disagree with me, but “Oh well” ‘tis the life of a Libertarian. I’m quite used to being called names, so give it your best shot. I’m a big girl and, trust me, I can take it.

Our very existence is compiled of rules. There are rules for everything. Don’t lie. Don’t steal. Don’t cheat. Don’t kill. I don’t see every liar in this country getting butt hurt when they hear someone say that lying is a sin. Thieves and murderers don’t start prison riots because law enforcement goes on TV proclaiming their mission to rid the world of thieves and murderers. So why the outrage over the comments of an old man who, supposedly, no one in the gay community gives a crap about? I read the interview and nowhere was I able to find anything that could be construed as hateful. Phil simply made mention of the rules and teachings in the Bible. I understand that there are many different versions of the Bible, but for the most part, they all contain the same basic rules of morality that God has placed on mankind. One such rule being that homosexuality (along with lying, stealing, adultery, murder, blasphemy)  is a sin. I know people who have committed various sins in the Bible, some of whom I love very dearly, but just because I don't agree with their lifestyle, doesn't mean I hate them. There are also other rules, such as spreading the Word of God to others “And he said to them, “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned” Mark 16:15-16. Phil Robertson tries to follow these rules as best as he can. Like all of us, he is a flawed human being, but having lived and sinned, he is trying his best to make things right with the Lord, by following the rules and teachings of the Bible.

Many people, as clearly demonstrated by the 1.4 M+ followers of the “Boycott A&E Until Phil Robertson is put back on Duck Dynasty” Facebook page, tend to follow the rules of the Bible. Other followers of the page may not necessarily believe the Bible, but they support freedom of speech that allows other people to follow the Bible without having to be afraid to speak on their beliefs. I have even read comments by some gay people who support Phil. Why? Because, while they may not agree with his views, they are not offended by his right to have and speak them. They understand that to disagree with someone, doesn't constitute hatred of them. What I will NEVER understand about this whole fiasco is WHY so many people in the gay community are so “offended” by Phil simply pointing out what the Bible states. They all know that the Bible calls homosexuality a sin and many of them CLAIM not to care. If they truly don’t care, then it wouldn't matter one bit that Phil Robertson (a man that many in the gay and left-wing community condemn as being a redneck, hick, ignorant, whatever) paraphrased what the Bible says about homosexuality. 

My take? They care what the Bible says, and they care IMMENSELY. Not because they are religious, but because the Bible is a constant reminder that they may not have it all figured out. It is the ever present “what if” in the back of their minds. Now, don’t misunderstand me, I’m not saying that this theory only applies to gay people, because it doesn't. It applies to all of us, myself included, about any vice that we enjoy in life. Any sinner is going to get crazy defensive if they get confronted with the idea that their vice, whatever it may be, could result in the possibility of eternal damnation upon GOD'S judgment. Why do they get angry? Because they don't want to stop sinning and there is no concrete proof whether they are right, or wrong. The only way to ease that nagging feeling that they might actually be wrong, is to get angry, lash out, and silence who or whatever is causing them to doubt themselves.

Bottom Line: Quit being so concerned with the words and beliefs of other people, stop with the "words hurt" mentality, because that just makes you look like a whiny idiot and most of all mind your own business.

My Buddies, Sam and Caesar

This isn't going to be a particularly insightful or funny post. Just a bit of a short FYI...So, it's Christmas, and my life has become even more maddening than usual. Sissy is a trumpet angel in the Christmas Pageant...this is a HUGE deal to her and a handful of pageant mom wannabes that I noticed at practice. The VINO happened to be one of them. What a shocker it was to see her squishy ass parading around church condemning parents for not feeding their kids 3 square meals of tofu on a daily basis. The day of pageant practice was particularly stressful for me. I'd spent the entire day being swamped at work and having to listen to an obnoxious co-worker reminisce about her hysterectomy for 8 hours straight. So, the last thing I wanted to do after work was to drive 20 minutes out of my way to take Sissy to Christmas pageant practice. BUT, alas, she has wanted to be in the stupid thing since 1st grade, and since I love the kid so damn much, I suffer in silence. She did look adorable prissing around in her little white (pillow case) angel costume with tinsel, I mean, a halo in her hair.

Practice lasted from 6-8, which sucks because I had no idea what I was going to do to kill time for 2 hours. After dropping her off, I realized that for the first time in nearly 18 months, I was genuinely ALONE. Hot Damn!! I went to a little Italian restaurant, ordered myself a Sam Adams, Caesar side salad, and a piece of pizza. I got to taste my food and listen to Christmas music without having to pull Hurricane off of the curtains, change a diaper for Bubba, or practice spelling words with Sissy. It was everything I thought it could be and it energized me.

I hear my little man starting to cry now, so I'll close with this: Cherish the little things in life.

I Can Pee Standing Up

I promise I do more than just complain, but it is Christmas time and bitching seems to be a symptom of the “Most Wonderful Time of the Year”. The stress of Christmas makes it lose its luster for me. As if working, chauffeuring, homework, (trying not to neglect) the dog, husband, diapers, house work, laundry, decorations, OH! and presents (gotta remember presents) isn't enough of a headache, now I need to remember to send money for teacher gifts, class Christmas parties, gift swaps and Christmas Pageants. This cocktail of mind-numbing to-dos would cause most stay-at-home-moms to start booking for a padded room with a ruffled “hug yourself” jacket. So there aren't words to describe what it does to us working mom folk! Most working moms live with constant guilt that they aren't being there enough for their kids, especially if they grew up in a home where their mother didn't work, like I did. My mother was Iron Mom. She managed to cook, clean, spend time with us, discipline and even president the damn PTA, but she didn't have a full-time job either. I, on the other hand, can’t do any of that. Why? Because I bought into the feminist hype in my youth, that I was woman, and you WOULD hear me roar! I could do anything a man could do. I remember, back in my military days, some a-hole telling me that women couldn't pee standing up. So, we girls, sliced the bottom off of a couple of water bottles and proceeded to use them to do what? Pee standing up. With that kind of mentality at 22 years old, it set the stage for me to be a pretty independent woman.

 

Little did I know that having children would become a job that I would greatly desire and cherish. When Sissy was born, I had to keep working. So I tried my best to delude myself, and Tony,  into believing that I wouldn't have had it any other way. I made no attempt to, one day, become a stay-at-home mom. For a few years that worked for all of us, until we decided that we wanted another baby. A year later the Hurricane was born. With her birth, my desire to stay home got even greater, but it wasn't too much for me to ignore, as I still needed to keep working. Then, when the Hurricane was 2 months old, I found out that my little Bubba was on the way. He was our surprise baby boy. We were terrified and excited at the same time, but I knew this meant that I would not be able to stay home with the kids for a long time. I knew that, with three of them, all needing so much of me in their own special ways, and my failure to prepare for this day, I wouldn't be able to give them what my mom was able to give to me anytime soon. We are a modest family and we enjoy it this way, for the most part. Of course, there are times, especially at Christmas, when we have to explain to Sissy why she can’t have as much as her friends have. “I know you want a new iPod Touch for Christmas, but you lost the last one Santa brought you, so I've forbidden him from delivering you anymore technology until you show me that you will take care of it. Plus, we’re in a worldwide recession, and that includes the North Pole.”, she replies, “But I thought the elves MADE the toys.”, “That was back in the old days. It’s 2013, and Santa can’t afford to buy parts AND educate all those elves with the technological skills needed to make an iPod.”

Christmas this year has been harder for me, than any other year. I think it is because I am living with the guilt of working when I’m needed so much more by my children. I know that staying home will have its own list of headaches, which I am not even close to being accustomed to. However, it would be nice to look back on their childhood and know that they saw me, the way I always saw my own mother. We all make choices in our lives and with those choices come consequences, good and bad. I hope that I am able to teach my children to value family over themselves, because I didn't do that and am paying the price as we speak. The choices we make effect every aspect of our futures. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best, is a good motto. Instead of spending so much time trying to convince myself, and others, that I wanted to keep working, I should have started preparing an “out” plan for me, should I decide to stay home one day, but I didn't want anyone to know that the idea of staying home with my kids had ever crossed my mind. So the moral of this blog post, though I know it has taken a sharp turn from complaining to self reflection, don’t try to keep up false appearances. The older I get, the more I realize that it doesn't matter what other people think because nothing is ever quite as it seems on the surface.

So Merry Christmas to all of my wonderful friends and family, working moms and stay-at-home moms, husbands and kiddos! May you all be honest with yourselves and remember: 

“Being happy doesn't mean everything’s perfect. It means you've decided to see beyond the imperfections.”

National Slap Your Irritating Co-Worker Day

I have been slacking on writing stuff because, frankly, I don’t want to offend anyone. Then I remembered that this is supposed to be my fortress of solitude. Yes, I've shared this blog with a few people and put one or two, “Hey look what I did’s” on Facebook….but for the most part, I’m going to keep this pretty under wraps. Why? Because I need a place to vent. I love Tony to death, but venting to him is like trying to get meaningful advice from an 8 year old boy while he's watching Iron Man. I will tell him an entire story and right when it comes to the part when he should (at least) nod or say “Uh-huh” I hear crickets and see the back of his head because, after all, Two and a Half Men is WAY more important than the sanity of the woman you share your home with, right?? I digress. Since I don’t want to be a bother to my magnificent better half, I will have to let loose here. There are times when a person needs to vent and today is one of those days for me. For all I know, I'm the only person reading this blog anyway. 

I spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, living in a little cubicle, away from any windows and in close proximity to individuals that make me want to punch a kitten.  If you've ever worked in an office setting, you know the many types of office weirdos I'm talking about. But have you ever come into contact with a person so bad that they could actually be defined as some sort of mutated, hybrid, combination of every annoying office cliche known to man? I have, but instead of rattling off the day to day antics of this creature, I thought I'd just list some irritating co-worker "qualities" and throw in a few "made up" examples.

1)    Loud Mouth:  They are the equivalent of a 13 year old girl trying to get the attention of a boy that doesn't know she's alive. It's obnoxious when 13 year olds do it and it's even worse when a 40 year old does it. We don't care that you have to make an appointment with your gynecologist because you've been less than fresh for 6 months or that you had to give your husband a suppository last weekend because he was backed up from eating too much cheesy fondue. Keep that crap to yourself, you nasty moron!

2)      One-Upper:  You know this asshole. They would rather DIE than allow anyone to know, do, or have something better than they know, do, or have. It all boils down to the fact that this person is super desperate for some attention. "Oh, you went to a JT concert the other night? Well, I used to babysit for him before he was famous and he sends me bacon wrapped back stage passes on a diamond encrusted gold chain whenever he comes to town for a show."  

3)    Chatty Cathy:  "Did you have a good lunch? Where'd you go? What'd you get? Was it good? Who are you emailing? Are they nice? Is it cold outside? Is it hot outside? I have to pee. Do you have to pee? Do I sound crazy? I'm not. I'm not crazy...." Nuff said.

4)    Wannabe:   Nothing is more irritating than hearing a grown-up try to sound cool when they clearly are not. Don't brag about how much you like the smell of weed or all the beers you drink, by yourself, in your garage on the weekends. I'm sure you were really cool that one time in 1986 when you went to a Poison concert and caught a contact high from the even cooler Glam Rockers next to you, but this is an office. Stop it. You sound pathetic.

5)    Martyr:   Seriously, don't come to work sick. Stay home with that stuff until it's gone. Trust me, we can make it without you. Nothing is more disgusting than a secretary who thinks that she is so important to the daily functions of a billion dollar corporation, that it can't go a day or two without their sniveling, coughing, gagging, funky, sick ass. If you get me sick and then it has to work its way through my entire household before coming right back to me, I swear, I'm going to sneeze all over your keyboard and wipe my ass with your nail file, the first chance I get. 

I could go on, but I'd like to hear some of the irritating "qualities" you've found in co-workers.

VINOS

Nothing irks me more than people who believe that berating condescension is an acceptable method of human interaction. What do I mean by berating condescension? Let me give you an example. VINOS. No, not the wine. This word is pronounced with a long "I" and stands for “Vegan/Vegetarian in name only”. Don’t misunderstand me, I am not referring to ACTUAL vegans and vegetarians. They are A-OK in my book! As a matter of fact, I have several family members who are true vegans and vegetarians. They accept me for the meat-eater that I am, and I love them for it! I am talking about people who have adapted the Vegan/Vegetarian lifestyle for the sole purpose of bragging about it to make themselves feel important. These pretentious douche-canoes have nothing better to do with their time than to critique the eating habits of other people and ridicule them for it. It’s pathetic, really. I am a true believer in that old adage of “mind your own business”. What difference does it make to you if I eat bacon, turkey, steak, or tofu? Oh, that’s right. It doesn’t make any difference to you! But you’re going to act like it does, because you are an empty person who feels so badly about your life that you are willing to proudly bash other people’s eating habits because they don’t conform to what you eat. I don’t consider this topic to be a cause. I support people who have causes and I understand how it can take time for advocates to learn how to react to others who don’t share their views. This can make them angry in the beginning, so I kind of don’t take it to heart as much when they get overly emotional, but dictating what your neighbor eats is a whole other animal (pun intended). VINOS do not advocate a cause, they just live on a soapbox.

 
This all started with one of Sissy’s friends. Sissy came home from a sleepover telling me that her friend says that people who eat meat are gross and disgusting and blah, blah, blah. When she told me this I said, “Well what does she eat?”, she replied, “Her mom sent her with some baby food in a Capri-Sun pouch. You know, those pouches that Hurricane eats?”  I seriously almost died laughing. A ten year old bringing a baby food pouch to a sleepover? I really felt sorry for the poor little girl. I asked Sissy, “Would you want me to send you to a sleepover with baby food?”, she said “No ma’am! I’m not a baby!” So I told Sissy not to worry what this kid had to say anymore and to just ignore her if she says stuff like that again. About a month later, I met this kid’s mother. She was sitting on the bleachers at a school basketball game droning on and on to anyone who would listen, about her “Vegan lifestyle” and how fulfilling it is. Saying things like "processed foods are poisonous" and anyone who allows their children to eat them is a bad parent and that “sugar is like child abuse.” Like child abuse….? Is this chick for real? All I could think was how I’d expected her to be thin and fit, but no, she wasn’t. At all. If I weren’t such a polite person, I’d have interrupted her and said “Listen lady, I’m not taking dietary advice from somebody who looks like the Lorax. Come back when you grow a neck and a waist. Until then shut the hell up.” 

Challenge Accepted!

Well the Christmas season is officially here! This used to be my favorite time of the year back before I had children. Now, all I feel is constant pressure to do this, that and the other. I just can’t do it and guess what? I won’t. I've never really been crafty or homemaker-esque because I was just born without that part of the brain; HOWEVER, the one traditional thing that I love about the holidays is Santa! I will go to the ends of the Earth to keep good ole' St. Nick alive and well in my home every year. That said, I’m not a fan of the elf on the shelf. My sister sends me these pictures of all the wacky things her elf does to her kids and I just say, “Really? You’re one of those?” after which, I get called a bitch, followed by even MORE pictures of that crazy elf and his shenanigans. The craziest thing my elf has done was sit on a ceiling fan one night. WooHoo! The one good thing about the elf, is that it keeps the Santa spirit alive and the kids in line, until recently.  Sissy, my oldest daughter, is 10 years old and starting to ask too many questions about Santa. I hate it! Thank goodness I have two other babies who will start believing in Santa in the next year or two, but the idea that my first baby may not believe in Santa much longer really sucks!!

Each year, she has tried your usual run of the mill tests:

• Writing a “secret wish list” that only Santa will see when she goes to visit him (lucky for me, the Santa we visit goes to our church and hooked me up with the contents of this “secret wish list”);
• Asking for gifts WAY too expensive for any normal parent to provide (I squashed this real fast by reminding her that we are in a worldwide recession and that includes the North Pole); and,

This year’s zinger! 

• Requesting a Triple Threat Duck Call from Duck Commander, signed by Korie and Si Robertson because "they aren't expensive and if you can’t get it for me, Santa will."

Well played, child, well played…I have had several friends suggest that I just purchase the duck call and autograph it myself but no thanks! I quote the great Barney Stinson, “Challenge Accepted!” So I proceed to frantically post all over Facebook for anyone to help me out with this ridiculous request! I've had a few bites from people in the West Monroe area who think that they might be able to help, but no takers just yet. I've even contacted the Duck Commander people directly and dropped the veteran card, because hey, I’m a veteran! Still nothing. It’s getting closer to Christmas and I’m starting to sweat bullets!! I guess worst case scenario, I accept defeat and sign the duck call myself; however, I feel like that’s being too dishonest. We shall see. In the meantime, if anyone is reading this, and has any connections that could help me come through with this Christmas present you will make one little girl and her mother very happy. Even if this is her last Christmas to believe in Santa, I’d like it to be a memorable one.

(This is my son. Photoshop is a wonderful thing.)