Friday, September 23, 2011

Yeah, I'm Talking About You!

Funny thing about me. I give off this weird vibe to people. It's hard to explain what it is, but it attracts the damnest people. You know how gaydar works, right? Well there is another radar that picks up on and finds kind, generous and honest people. Helpful, decent folk who just want to be good people can be found with this special ability. I, as it seems, do not have this distinguishing all.

As I'm sure you know, sometimes this special radar can be used for evil. Unfortunately there are those that use it to find people that they can latch on to like a blood sucking leech. They pretend to be interested in a friendship, but they really only want some of what you have. They tend to be the favor whores. Always needing your help, but when they are called upon they let the phone go to voicemail. I really thought I had rid myself of those people. A few would stumble in, but not last long.

What is sad is that I really did think I had flushed all of them out. Come to find out...I didn't...Shit! I really mean SHIT! How did this happen? Now that my friends and neighbors know we are moving, it seems it has really gotten quiet around here. My "friends" "seemed" sad, but then something odd happened. The phone stopped ringing, they stopped answering their phones, emails take three times as long to return and every freaking favor I've called in has been turned down in one way or another. All this leaves me scratching my head wondering what the hell!

I can't count how many favors I have done for these "friends". From watching their brats, running an errand, lending out items, watching pets, fronting money, multiple E.R. trips, moving in and moving out, cooking when sick....what have any of those things gotten me?? All my great friend moves have gotten me jack squat, nothing, zero, zilch, nada! I rarely ask favors, it's just something I don't do, if I can help it. So, when I do ask you a favor, I really need it.

At first I was nervous and a bit sad to move. Now I can't wait to get the hell out of here. Not that I think my leaving is going to put anyone out. As it seems a few have already replaced me, but don't cry for me. I will just take this lesson to Oklahoma City and learn from it.

Maybe I should see this as a very good thing. As long as we are still here I won't be bothered doing anyone any favors! That actually sounded really good when I said it. I think I just turned my own frown upside down into a smile. It's their loss and my gain anyway.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Garage Sale Love & Hate

I always say, "This is the last garage sale I'm having". Of course my husband rolls his knowing eyes, because it won't be my last and he is completely sure of that. To be honest, I know that it won't be, but in my defense I am hoping that it might be.

Garage sales and I have a love / hate thing going on. I can save, price, and pack away like it was an art or an Olympic sport. I take my time for months, just finding this and that throughout the house. Scanning my house as I clean or put away laundry. Planning is so easy and that ease hooks me every time. I get lost in the planning only to slowly start to dread the garage sale as the date begins to creep up.

First of all I want to know who decided garage sales were going to start so early in the morning? Ummm, that requires one to get up even earlier to finish prepping or like a lot of people, to finish pricing and to drag the crap out to the driveway. The crack of dawn is unsympathetic to all those that don't naturally get up before the roosters. No matter how early I "plan" to go to sleep, I am no more useful at 4:45 a.m., than if I were still asleep.

Secondly, I hate early birds that show up despite the no early bird statement added to the ad that they read to find out about the damn garage sale. I know they read it, but they come by anyway in some hopes that I will allow the very early birds I said I didn't want to deal with. Sorry you don't know that I am that kind of person and I will tell you not to come in. In my head I'm telling you to jump up my butt, because I'm freakin tired and your rudeness is rushing me, which makes me pissy. I'm pretty sure I don't need your money and now don't want it.

Thirdly, oh how I hate having to deal with tards who want my stuff for free. Did I put it out at the curb? Does it have a free sign on it? I think its bullshit to haggle on a mint condition men's Polo shirt that's marked 2.00! Really? What moron doesn't know that Polo retails for a few bucks more than 2.00? You don't have to know it's in the neighborhood of 68.00, but I expect you to use your brain. How about the lady that bitched about the 8.00 priced Brighton kitten heeled sandals that clearly had a perfect sole and the original price tag of 135.00 still on it. She wanted to give me 50 cents! My garage sales are not full of trash. I take care of my things and price them well below anything you could pay new or used on Ebay. It just drives me nuts! I have people haggling me over items priced 50 cents. They want to give me less on every price, if they can. Do these people think they are pros, experts or ready to pen a how to book, because they can save a quarter here and fifty cents there at garage sales? What an inspiring feat!

Lastly, I simple don't look forward to dealing with anything that doesn't sell. I don't want to take it home, so I have to load it up in the car and drive it to the local Goodwill. Yes, Goodwill is better than tossing the stuff in the trash, but Goodwill has done some things that I don't agree with. I'd rather give to the Salvation Army, but they have sucky hours and there isn't an after hours box or bin I can use.

So, why do I keep having garage sales? I guess we have a lot of stuff and making some money back ain't too shabby.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Say No to Emo

This is something like how my 14 year old son wants to dress. At least this is how he keeps talking about dressing.

He is driving me insane with all his what ifs.

Here is his list that he keeps asking about:

1. What if I get a mohawk and color it half blue half black?

2. What if I get my lip and brow pierced?

3. What if I get tattooed all over?

4. What if I grow my hair past my shoulders w/ blonde tips?

5. What if I only wear black and I get all Emo pasty?

6. What if I tattoo the side of my head?

7. What if I was Goth w/ make-up and earrings up my ears?

He brings these what ifs up all the time. He talks about the Goth and Emo styles all the time. Enough!

This is such the opposite of how I grew up and how he was dressed as a young boy. I grew up with Polo, Calvin and Izod. I dressed my son in Polo, Izod and Gap. Where is this coming from? His friends don't dress Goth or Emo. Really, I'm at a loss as to where this is coming from.

Now, I am not against freedom of expression or wanting to express yourself with fashion. It's just that I don't like the Goth or Emo look. I don't want my son shaving his head, wearing a mohawk, or piercing his face. And I don't want him getting all pasty and wearing all black.

I want him to keep dressing in Polo and Gap. I want him to keep looking like this...

There isn't anything wrong with this look. It's clean, polished and educated looking. People will think better of my son looking like the guy in the above pic then the guy in the first pic. That's just how it goes in this world. I didn't make up the rules. Of course, if my son joins a band, gets signed to a major label and becomes a successful musician, then I guess he can look like Johnny Rotten.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

I Drank the Kool-aid

I said I wouldn't do it, but I did anyway. Not only did I drink the Kool-aid, but it was my second glass. I guess I can officially be called a follower, that which I detest. I'm not talking about following my favorite blogs or the followers of this blog. It's the following of trends or the crowd that I don't like.

Why? I joined Twitter today and before that I join Facebook. I tried to stay away, but got sucked in anyway.

First my damn friends got me started with Facebook. Who knows exactly how many hours of my life I've lost to Facebook. At first it sucked me in just with collecting friends, then I started collecting old friends, then people I went to high school with, then people I went to middle school with, then old neighbors, then people I used to work with, THEN I started excepting old boyfriends. Before I knew it I was excepting their wives and my husband's old girl friends. I'm friends with freak'n everyone. Why stop now? I'm not a snob! I'm an equal opportunity friender.

Now here comes Twitter. I don't know how long I'll be on this one, because I'm Twitter retarded. I understand Twitter, but I tweet from the computer not my cell phone. Every place I go everyone is tweeting on their phones. I hate texting so much I took texting off my phone. I don't like the tiny keys and I see no reason not to use the mouthpiece.

For now though, I'm like the Dad in that Verizon commercial where he is tweeting from the couch and all he is doing is typing that he is on the couch. If you are Twitter retarded or just want to know when I'm on the couch, then come see me at subrbnpsychosis.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

They Didn't Miss Me?

Ain't that the truth!

Well that leaves me with 34 more years before it gets easy, woo hoo! That's over three decades of torture, I feel like I won the lottery. I feel so warm and fuzzy when I think about it... Wait that might be something else? I'll have to get back to you on that one.

So what has my panties in such a wad? Well let me tell you...I was forgotten. Really, I was completely forgotten about by my family. Think waiting outside for your Mom or Dad to come pick you up from school or work, but they never show, because the forgot you. Yay, like that, but worse.

See I left the house (in front of my husband) after telling my 14 year old. I didn't tell my 8 year old, because 9 out of 10 times that means a 10 minute goodbye / I love you send off outside until my car is gone from his sight. Being my Mama's boy, I will leave him out of this, as he is my only allie and he will cross over to the dark side soon enough.

My husband saw me and my oldest son spoke the words, "okay". I know that my son speaking while playing a video game doesn't count as him hearing me, but I did tell him.

I was gone for 5 hours, before I called from a local restaurant to ask them if they had eaten dinner and if they wanted anything. That was when it dawned on my husband that I wasn't home. I actually think it was the crowd of football fans cheering in the background that tipped him off, otherwise he might have thought I was calling from the back of the house.

Strangely enough I've never been able to stay in any part of the house for more than 5 minutes, before one of them finds me. I don't remember the last time I took a bath or went to the bathroom (for any reason) without one of my kids knocking on the door. They must have known on some level that I wasn't there.

Hubby doesn't ask where I am or let on he just realized I was out of the house. I order the kids food and make it home about 45 minutes later. That is when my husband tells me with a chuckle, "Hey, you know I didn't even know you had left". I felt so loved at that moment. Without missing his cue, my oldest says, "You left"?

Well, thank God I wasn't abducted while I was gone. I wonder when exactly they would have noticed I was gone? Maybe an hour after dinner? Maybe next Thursday? I keep thinking about how when I am home they find me every few minutes, yet they were totally unaware I was gone for 5 hours. I keep doing the math, but it doesn't add up.

I can hear the eventual 911 call in my head.

911: This is 911, what is your emergency?

Husband: I think my wife is missing

911: When did you last see your wife?

Husband: I don't know

911: You don't know? The how do you know she is missing Sir?

Husband: There's no dinner

911: Do you know what she was last seen wearing?

Husband: No

911: Sir, you don't know what she is wearing and you don't know when you last saw her? Sir, maybe she isn't missing. I'm sending an officer to your house.

The police show up and ask my husband the same batch of questions. I am confident that the policemen would leave the house scratching their heads wondering if this man was even married to a real person.

Friday, September 11, 2009

You're Telling Me Why??

I haven't figured it out yet, but there is definitely something about either me or this house that makes my kid's friends air their family business. These kids pass the threshold and they start spilling their guts. I know way too much dirt on these parents.

Don't misunderstand me, I'm not complaining. I love me some gossip, it's just sorta weird where the information is coming from. Maybe they need to get it off their chests or maybe they just have loose lips.

It does make for strange conversations in my head when I see these parents out around town or when they come to pick up their precious blabber mouth.

I know about divorces, fights, habits, likes & dislikes, what they think of their neighbors and / or family members, who hides purchases from their spouse, hang ups, mood swings and who's on medication. I even know about siblings sneaking out, older boyfriends, who closet smokes, who's failing a class or two and who had a minor fender bender without telling anyone.

Too bad I can't sell these tid bits of information to the trash rags or that none of the parents are wealthy enough to blackmail. My kids need to network up the food chain!

All this has me thinking about if my kids go and tell their friend's parents any of my dirt. Sadly, I don't really have any. Actually these parents are making me reevaluate my life. I'm boring! I need to trash it up a bit. I'm not as interesting as these people. Anyone have any suggestions??

I'm not on medication, even though I envy those spaced out soccer moms. I don't really drink, so the chance of some drunken embarrassment is slim to none. I don't have a rap sheet. My kids aren't failing. There isn't anything I feel is worth hiding from my husband, so there goes any one's chance of blackmailing me. I'll never be lucking enough to get to divorced (I'm joking honey). Wow I do sound boring!

So boys and girls think about what your kids are overhearing or watching you do. They might just tell me and you don't want that, because I'll blog about it!

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

You Can See Them Too, Right??

I'm making it official...I hate stupid people. For those of you who know me, know this is no big surprise.

They are everywhere and, if that wasn't enough, I attract them too! Did I miss something or are there more stupid people than there use to be? Now to be clear, I lump rude people in the group, because it makes my life easier. Aren't they one in the same anyway?

I find myself daydreaming about bitch slapping people. I thought I might need meds to deal with all the stupid people, but that would probably make me more confident in confronting the morons and with a smile.

One lady had me aggravated yesterday by carrying on a conversation on her cell phone in public. Here I am trying to think of a classified ad while she has a conservation with a man about not leaving him breakfast before she left the house. Not only is that an asinine topic of discussion, but she had the guy on speaker and the volume was so high the guy's voice was distorted. Really, lady? I don't know if this guy was her husband or her adult son, either way he's a douche. I didn't know if I wanted to slap her or hug her and tell her to run away from this man, husband or son or whoever. It took me 10 minutes to write 29 words, because I couldn't think straight. Why did I have to listen to any of that?

Stupid seems to be the new trend, maybe it's the new fashion statement. Sorta like stupid is the new black, it goes with everything.

Do I lack some trait to be able to deal with stupid or rude people? It is such a sore spot with me. I am very stupid intolerant. Maybe I can make a game out of it? I should buy one of those "I'm With Stupid" t-shirts. I could wear out when I run errands and stand by people that annoy me. Too bad I couldn't pull off having my picture taken with some of them. I could collect them, lol.

Even had to deal with a stupid salesman with Dell today. I already had a quote and told the dude (who was looking at it on his end) I only wanted to change the laptop's color. He starts right in going through each feature, asking, "are you sure you want this and are you sure you want that"? Each and every question I answered him, "I only want to change the colorrrr". Seven times I said it, yes I counted. I wanted to ask him what was wrong with him. Was he part of a work program?? I mean that changes everything, if he is part of some special assistance program.

Half of Wal-marts employees are on that very assistance program. Okay, maybe they all qualify for one, but one doesn't exist. I think my neighbor needs to be on one. Instead of bailing out the auto makers or pushing people to volunteer, the government should have created a common sense stimulus package. Make everyone take classes on manners and how to use your common sense. There should be rehabs for stupid people and stupid people interventions. I would support that, hell I'd even watch a reality show based on stupid people being taken by surprise and whisked away to intelligence boot camp. The show would never run out of people to transform. It would make good TV and be a service to mankind.

I'm just say'n.