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Did I mention I got a medicine bowl?

Ok, well, you knew I couldn’t have something as priceless as my new Medicine Bowl in my home for more than a day without it inspiring some kind of *caper*!

I have been looking for the Perfect Place to set aforementioned bowl. There is only one problem: The cat is obsessed with it. SO everywhere I set the bowl, the cat make a beeline right to it and starts brushing against the horsehair or chewing on the feathers. I figure that CAN’T be good! So, as of yesterday, the bowl was on the dresser. I get a call from Dear Partner (DP), who is on bed rest for a back injury and she informs me that the cat just will NOT leave the bowl alone! She can’t get up to shoo the cat away.
So, I get home last night and I see my bowl, surounded by various crumpled up pieces of paper (ther emnants of DP’s attempt, from bed to distract the cat from the bowl!) and the bundle of Buffalo hair, which was situated in the front pocket, is GONE!
Ok, now I am resourceful but where in the F^#$ am I going to find another bundle of Buffalo fur? Not only that, but here was this awesome bowl minding it’s own business and I bring it inot the house of cat to be dessimated! I am thinking that this can’t be good for my mojo! So, I launch a search for the missing fur. Child, sensing the exitement, decideds to help. Hey, I’ll take what I can get! SO I describe what we are looking for and he is off! The conversation the followed went something like this:

Child: Mommy I found it! (holds up tuft of hair)
Me: No honey, thats dog fur.
Child: (few minutes later) Mommy! I found it! (hold up tuft of hair)
Me: No honey, thats a dust bunny.
Child: (yet later, emerging from under his bed) Mommy! (holds up silky garment)
Me: No, those are panties and why are they under the bed?!?!
Child: (he is relentless!) This is it! (holds up indistinguishable item)
Me: (after much consideration) no, that’s a dryer sheet that has been dragged on the ground thus collecting various and sundry hair and debris and then chewed by the dog.

I need to clean my house.

The errant fur turned up under my bed, hidden artfully under a bag. I found an entire grotto of collected cat-finds under the bed! It was like a hostage situation!

I REALLY need to clean my house!

I placed the fur back in it’s pocket of honor and the bowl is now sitting on the lower shelf of my closet with the door open so I can see it. It is about 6 feet up, so I don’t think the cat can get up there…. yet.

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School supplies and chicken bones

When Child’s school let out for Easter break, his teacher sent home a bunch of STUFF for us, the responsible parents, to do over the break. APPARENTLY, she did NOT get the memo, the I am NOT a responsible parent and that I would prefer to spend my sons break in a drug induced haze under the covers. Oh and biting the heads off bats.

Instead, I will be going through all of his school supplies and trying to determine which ones are “too worn out to use” and replacing them, while sending back the rest. A word on this: these supplies have been used by 5 year olds since the beginning of the year. Isn’t this REALLY just a trick to see which parent is the cheapest? Which parent will ACTUALLY send their child back with the old, snotted on, used up, worn out supplies??? Yes, I will win that medal. HEY! THEY’RE STILL GOOD!

Oh and then I will be making bones for the teacher to bury in the sand and for my child to dig up to learn about dinosaurs! This was on my list of things I wanted to do on Child break right after “dig the hemorhoid out of my ass”. The instructions for this project are so time consuming that the teacher had to actually preface them by telling us to look at it as an “adventure” and not a pain.

The instructions call for me to purchace a whole chicken and cook it for 3 hours (it makes a WONDERFUL broth!!!) and then let it cool for two. Pick off all the meat (use it in a casserole for your family!!) and return the bones to water and boil for another 2 hours and then cool again. Soak them overnight in bleach wather and then scrub them with a toothbrush, soap and water. Dry them and send them to school with your little love.

Hell, I don’t clean *Child* that thourougly. Can’t I send him with the half clean bones and he can say he found the dinosaurs that were only half eaten????

So the thought of my spring break tasks has exhausted me and I haven’t even drank my pigs blood yet. I told Child we were having McDonalds tonight. And we were eating it in front of the TV. And he could watch Blues Clues while he was eating, instead of having to converse with me. It was so relaxing and fun. In 5 years, Child has never been allowed to eat in front of the TV at my house… His dads is a different story. I just think that sitting at the table together is important. But not tonight. Fuck it. I was pushed over the edge by school suppies and chicken bones.

And then in an even freakier twist of fate that had Child beside himself with delight, After dinner, I let him play with his Leapster for a little bit while I sat down to check some things online. And I fell asleep. Again in the realm of things that never happen. Not just a doze, but sitting up, on my couch, hands on the keyboard, ASLEEP! For about a half hour. My darling son doesn’t get the nature of taking advantage of these things and he….. sat and played with his leapster. I might have slept all night until I heard his cute little voice, in hysterics, asking me if I was asleep.

The camera was on the table beside me. Good thing he hasn’t figured out how to use it!!!!

So, if anyone here wants to volunteer to go school supply shopping or to make dinosaur bones for me by the weekend, let me know. I will be in my bed, watching Jerry Springer, doing drugs and eating domestic animals, while my son shivers naked and hungry in his tiny little hole of a room. Like a good mother.

Randomness

I am feling very random today and extra points go to anyone who has the tolerence to actually read through this to the end!

I have a temper. A bad, mean, nasty, klingon-like, EVIL temper. Like the kind of temper that makes me think, in the middle of said temper flare up that I could pick up a dog and make a doggie shaped hole in the wall. NO, I have never actually done it. Any brilliant suggestions for controlling said temper that do not involve a) count to ten b) breathe c) hit a pillow..?

The lights in this office are making my head hurt. What is strange is, until this very day, I never actually believed that flourescent light could make one’s head hurt, but here I sit in pain and I am a believer. I think this likely says something about me and my need for external validation in relationship to faith.

I am so far behind in my work right now that I may never catch up. This is distressing on two levels: first there is the level that says that I am doing something very important and the fact that I am behind in doing it will have consequences for someone. The second level is the one that says that no one will ever even notice that I am not keeping up on what I have ot do and therefore what I do in general is rendered completely pointless, except as the most horrid kind of busy work, designed to make one feel as if they are making a difference when in actuallity they are doing nothing but feeding their self absorbed need to seem important.

What should I make for dinner? The fact is that I am so extremely tired today taht I want to give my son a pop tart and put him to bed so that I cna climb in to bed too. But I am compelled to make him something that has at least a little more substance. He would like macarroni and cheese. I am thinking I need to grill some chicken or what not. It all sounds like a lot of work to me right now.

In retrospect, maybe it is not the lights iving me a headache as much as it is the effort required to keep my eyes open. So much for faith.

My son thinks that God and Santa have the power to bring things back to life. As his father points out, perhaps we should embark on correcting that thought at some point. Oh, and he has an unnatural fear of children turning into fruit. Well, frankly, who doesn’t?

I went to see Fabulous Gay Dave last week for a trim and I am feeling as if my hair is short now, even though it’s not really, and I fear that it is not as kicky as it was before. I don’t understand why it won’t grow? I have been putting Miracle Grow on it every day since I was 16 and my friend Cheryl told me that this is what she used to get *her* hair to grow! Maybe *that’s* why I have a headache!

For some odd reason, I am barely resisting the urge to break out with a chorus of “Believe it or Not” (the theme from the Greatest American Hero).

Sadly, however, this is not the song that is currently running through my head. I would share what that song is, but then it would run through all of your heads too, and I don’t care to weild that kind of power.

All of my grades are posted except my statistics grade. Why???? What have I done to deserve this academic absurdity? Why can’t my instructor just tell me the fucking grade???? I am sure they were supposed to be in a while ago… do you think he is hunched in the corner of his furthest bedroom and snickering and petting his white cat as he considers the torture he is putting us through by withholding the one grade that we are all freaked out about???

Thus ends the Gospel of Me.

And the theme of the day is….

Ok, the theme of the day is Karma. When this was running through my head earlier, in the car, I really had a lot more to say about the topic. Now, I am so tired and drained, I’m not sure I can think of it all again. But here goes..

It kills me anymore to hear anyone talk about Karma… what *is* Karma anyway? The notion that what you do comes back on you, the notion that cosmically, you are responsible for how big of a jack ass you may or may not choose to be. But see I just don’t think it works that way. First of all, lets settle something: Is Karma paid before or after you die? Let’s go with “both” as a nice round answer.

Looking around at the world, it is CLEAR that no one really gets what they deserve. And personally, I am pretty thankful for that. But the truth is, there are amazing people who get the ass and real shit heads who get it all. I don’t think anyone actually gets what they deserve in this life. I think people get what they *think* they deserve. If I am a jack ass and I don’t see it or think there is the least thing wrong with my behavior, I am likely going to go through life pretty easy. On the other hand, If I am an all around great human being who cheated on her taxes one year and I can’t live with the guilt, I am going to make myself miserable until I make amends. I just don’t see the pay back/consequence thing at all. bad things happen to good people and great things happen to bad people…
so ok, then, enter the whole next life Karma thing. This is a crock if I ever heard one. I mean what’s the damn point. Very few people are actually in touch enough with their soul to remember anything about a past life, much less retain a lesson that a whole other person needed to learn. Plus, The notion implies that the soul directs the brain of it’s corporeal host. That feels wonky to me… I have a heard time thinking of a killer who is just that way because his soul is evil. If we are to believe that, then we can’t possibly believe in rehabilitatin. I mean if your soul is fucked, what chance does the rest of you have. And so, ok, killer croaks and goes to his great come uppance in which he is properly chasised and sent back to the world as a little girl who is cripped and neglected, destined to suffer her whole life to pay pernnance for whatever she did while she was the killer. But is the soul still evil? Or did it somehow become less evil by taking to corporeal form of someone so disadvantaged? Oh and don’t I feel like a chump, and kind of completely unenlightened that I can barely get a handle on who my soul is some of the time, much less figure out what it may or may not have done last life time that caused me to miss the winning lottery by a number in *this* life. Or be beat by my parents. Or raped by my boss. Or have to watch “Who’s the Boss” in syndication.

I just think it is either crap, or over simplified in a way that I am missing. Every time I have an evil thought about someone (and believe me, I have them) Tina freaks out, thinking I am incurring some kind of Karmic debt that will lead to my untimely demise. But I think the truth of the matter is that I could be Gahndi in this life and still get my car stolen and my ass beat in my next life.

Why do we always have to come up with a nice little excuse… why cant we just admit that sometime life just sucks, no matter who you are?? Are we afraid of the randomness? I mean, I am petrified of the randomness, but convincing myself the I or my loved ones have good Karma does little to asuage my irrational fears. nor do I feel better about the untimely death of a child by telling my self that she must have really fucked someone over in her last life, so she got struck with some horrible disease in this one. I mean, call me a cynic or a pessamist or just plain mean, but sometimes life is just one big never ending ass suck with a few great moments thrown in to keep you entertained.

HAIR CRISIS

Ok, crisis du Jour! So, about 2 weeks ago, I decide that I want to do something with my hair ebcasue I am sick of how thin it is since having the baby. Those who know me know I NEVER spend money on something like hair or makeup. I mean… I just never do. SO this is abig deal. So I call Michaels (by the way, in case you get bored and skip the rest NEVER GO TO MICHAELS!!!!!!) and they set me up with a free consult and assure me that the very nice woman who also has naturally curly hair will do whatever I want.

So today, I am so thrilled to be doing this Nice Thing for myself and convinved that when I am done I will have long flowing locks and maybe blue eyes (I know it sounds like a big order for a hair dresser, but I set the bar high!). I giddily go to the place and instantly feel as if I am Little Girl in Mommys Dressing Room. I should have taken the hint and left then. But I wait for Kelly to come and get me and when she does, I notice that she looks like maybe she was trying to fit in with her teen age daughters friends or at least steal their hair do. So she sits me down and starts tearing up my hair, telling me that there is nothing she can do with it except cut it all off! Now, I have an irrational fear of short hair, so this was out of the question. And she gets all shitty with me about the issue, and tell me that all that about 3 inches of my hair is psudo hair and that hse can’t “make my hair long for me”…. then, after I try to tell her nicely that I look awful with short hair and I am not comfortable cutting it, she informs me that my hair is “certainly not flattering the way it is” and tells me flat out that I either cut it all off or she can’t help me. Then, as if she is trying ot make me feel better, she informs me that *her* hair is curly and look how nice hers is. I wanted to tell her that her hair made her look like a middle aged soccer mom who just wants to fit in and not the cutsie little poodle she thought it would. Further, I told her my body type does not support short hair, that the less hair I have, the more I look like a triangle, and I did not come this far in life to look like a triangle. Well she stands firm, cut it or get out, so I get out.
I call Susan, very upset about my dashed hair dreams (by the way, my eyes are still brown to boot) and she instantly refers me to her hair guy, David. David, the sweetest gay man on earth, offers to see me this afternoon and fix me up fine. So we go in and he looks at my hair and tells me that he can trim it up a little at a time and that it does not need to be cut short. Then he walks me through all of the things I can do to make it healthy and fabulous, trims it up and saves the day! (hair wise, anyway)…. so now my hair is 2 inches shorter, but still long and is light and kicky! And AND he gave me extra special happy shampoo to boot! My eyes, however, are still brown. you can’t get the moon I guess…

Moral of the story… AVOID MICHAELS!! And never trust a straight person to handle what a Gay man was born to do! That and Susuan has all of the best connections inthis city. I strongly recommend you consult her before doing anything if you are in the city!