Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?

Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?

I’ve never smoked, and I’ve never bought cigarettes. I’m not some holier than thou prude, I just like breathing, and cigarette smoke makes my lungs revolt against that, so I don’t do it. I have a question though. Is there some sort of asshole code that you have to sign when you buy cigarettes or bum that first one off of someone, that states you will not only smell like an ash tray, but will also “cover up” the hideous smell with copious amounts of perfume or cologne?

Newsflash! You’re not fooling anybody. We can still smell the cigarettes, but now on top of THAT making our eyes water, throat burn, and lungs want to give up, NOW, it’s even worse because you’ve also added to the mix enough artificial scent for every single member of the National Cheerleading Association since the beginning of time.

Look, I get that you like your perfume. I get that you enjoy slowly killing yourself with cigarettes. But for the love of all things holy, stop trying to cover up the smell of cigarettes with anything, no matter how expensive it might be. You’re wasting money on both levels, and making people hate you. Nobody should be able to smell you from 50 yards away, and just know that if I’m stuck in a confined space with you, I’m silently plotting your death as I’m fighting for every breath I take.

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She Believed She Could

She Believed She Could

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She believed she could, but she was REALLY tired, so she didn’t.

If that doesn’t sum up my Christmas experience this year, I don’t know what does. There has NEVER been a year in my entire life that I have been in this position. The one where it’s 6 days until Christmas and I haven’t bought one single solitary thing.

Actually, “I haven’t bought one single solitary thing” is a bit of an overstatement. I mean, I spent a sizable chunk of change to help make sure the adorable kids of a friend of mine have a little something for Christmas. I bought myself some much-needed vehicle maintenance, tires, and a sweet Hobo Lauren wallet in mustard yellow.

I bought something small for my 2 best bitches, because it was EASY to think of something for them, and after all we’ve been through, and how much of my sanity I’ve managed to keep because of them, a small Christmas gift is a given. I mean, for crying out loud,  after the “lovely” experience of being sexually harassed by a family member (yeah, that happened, and that’s what this blog post was about), they’re pretty much the biggest reason I’m not still sitting at home every night with all of the lights off so nobody realizes I’m home. (Ok…actually, hold up….yes, friend support helped with this, BUT so did being the kind of person who refuses to just sit back and be scared. Being the kind of person who is livid that he gets to write it all off with some vague “I haven’t been myself and I hurt some people, blah, blah, blah” post on Facebook…that and some friend support is what made it so I don’t sit at home with the lights off hoping nobody realizes I’m there.) Besides, they’re the biggest part of who I turn to when I now avoid family gatherings like the plague, so thinking of something to thank them for that was E to the Z, easy.

What I haven’t done though, is figure out what to buy the 18-year-old man-child that sometimes comes home and says “Hey mom, I love you” and is nice for a little bit, and then drops the bombshell on what he wants. Are we to the point yet where I can slap a bow on the front door, light switches, refrigerator, water heater, and washer and dryer and just call it good? Probably not….but we’re definitely to the point where I can just buy some clothes, gas cards, and restaurant gift cards, and call that good.

Though, I will admit, I’m a little bit sad that the days of Santa and the excitement of Christmas are over. I blinked and they were gone, and perhaps that is why I’m having a hard time finding Christmas spirit this year. Maybe I just need a year to not worry about the neighbor gifts, the co-worker gifts, the extended family gifts, the Christmas parties, and the whole dramatic presentation of the entire holiday. So I’m taking that break from it this year, and maybe next year, I’ll be ready to go again. Maybe next year instead of “She believed she could, but she was really tired, so she didn’t,” it will be “Just call me the little engine that said ‘Ok, but first I need coffee.'”

The Obligatory Christmas Update

The Obligatory Christmas Update

You know those cutesy Christmas letters that normal people send out with a family picture…that they took in like August, because they have their sh*t together and actually plan these things? Yeah…I’m not one of those people. I tried to be. I really did, but after killing myself year after year to take care of Christmas by myself, putting up the 300 ornament, front room clearing monstrosity of a tree, baking the cookies, buying the neighbor gifts, attempting to make it look like the kid had sufficient presents under the tree (a REALLY hard task when there is only one person buying stuff for one kid), all while trying to also keep the little snot humble, I gave up on it.

I had partially given up on it 3 years ago, because the kid refused to help clean up HIS messes everywhere in the house, and I didn’t have the energy to deal with it. I replaced the ginormous tree with a little pre-lit potted tree that sat on my coffee table. The gifts he received looked a whole lot more impressive surrounding that than they did underneath the tree from the previous years. PLUS, I got to pretend we were being “simplistic” instead of the truth: I was too damn depressed to deal with it.

The gigantic Christmas Weed didn’t make a return the next year either, as Mr “I’m too cool for my mom” woke me up on Christmas morning and said “Can I open my presents so I can go to my friend’s house?” When I told him his friends were spending time with their parents, he retreated to his room for the rest of the day so he could talk to those friends who were also forced to stay home with their families through whatever form of social media the “cool kids” were using at the time.

Last year…hard pass on the real tree again. Actually, it was a hard pass on Christmas spirit altogether around our place, since the kid spent most of his time declaring his absolute contempt for having to wash his own clothes and pick up after himself by telling me at every chance he had that he couldn’t wait until he was 18 so he could just move out. In an effort to find something that didn’t completely suck about the season last year, I bought Christmas gifts for the adorable little boys of an incredibly appreciative friend, and of course my own spawn as well. As appreciative as this friend was, my kid was the complete polar opposite, asking if I kept the receipts so he could just go get the money, before muttering a quick “Thanks though” and leaving to go to what ever friend he was making horrible decisions with at the time, which brings us to this year’s obligatory Christmas update.

Dear friends and family,

It’s definitely been a year of ups and downs. Coming off of a tumultuous 2016, we didn’t expect 2017 to be quite as eventful but boy were we wrong about that one!

The kid turned 18 this year, but his attitude reverted back to that of a 2-3 year old. Fresh off of his ticket for minor possession of tobacco and curfew violation during the 2016 Thanksgiving weekend, he celebrated his birthday with a realization that stupid things done now come with much higher consequences.

During the summer, he finally got a job when one of his mom’s friends took pity on him. Surprisingly things were going well with that, until he realized a couple of months later that you actually have to show up to work and lose the attitude to keep your job. He moved out when his mom continued to expect him to do far too much around the house. Cleaning up after himself, washing his dishes, and expecting him to NOT put holes in walls, doors, and mirrors were simply unacceptable rules to have to live with.

Apparently, having not learned anything during Thanksgiving 2016, he rounded out the year with a minor consumption ticket, and since we live in Utah, there will be some pretty hefty fines and possible jail time to go along with that one. Perhaps the only good thing to come out of that is the fact that he’s 18, so the meanest mom in the entire world won’t have to shoulder ANY liability for that one. It’s truly a miracle he’s still alive though, since in a desperate attempt to sound much cooler than he is, he likes to brag that he blew a .55 (I’m not planning a funeral, so obviously he didn’t) when the officer broke up the little shindig that he and the rest of his idiot squad were partying at. .55 and still standing….it’s a true Christmas miracle!

Now for the worst mom in the world….the one who “ruined the kid’s childhood,” 2017 wasn’t a complete loss. She spent some time with some truly amazing people in Minnesota and Washington, DC as the “green haired girl from Utah” trying to get our current Congress to do the right thing and fund cancer research, close a loophole keeping seniors from getting life saving medical services, and other awesomeness. In an effort to keep from joining the parenting ranks of Casey Anthony, she learned how to deflect stress with painting, which she actually kind of kicks ass at. It’s a good thing painting is cheaper than a defense attorney, because the kid certainly gives her plenty of reasons to need one. Yes, she’s still single. No, that probably won’t change ever. Yes, she’s still the black sheep of the entire family…..for now.

2017 can officially suck it, and we look forward to seeing you all in 2018, hopefully still on this side of the Grey Bar Hotel. Merry Christmas, and here’s to a new freaking year!