Well, baseball has begun for many teams today including the team for which my husband cheers, the Cincinnati Reds. I’m not a huge sports fan. The only time I really enjoy a game of any sort is if I am actually there. For some reason, I cannot do the pseudo-spectator thing and watch them on television.

My husband is an avid sports fan. He always has been. I knew this from day one. So it’s not as if I expect his love for sports to transform into something more fantastic (like a an obsession with giving me massages). But sometimes, I do wish he could cut down his enthusiasm for random statistics and methods of putting some ball somewhere in order for someone to feel victorious.

I know what you’re probably thinking something along the lines of, “why don’t you just walk into the other room and watch television?? HUH, LADY? calm down! It’s not the end of the world.”

But, I will tell you why it is the end of the world in this household. My husband happens to enjoy my company. very simple, I know, but true. If I am not in the room with him while he participates in this pseudo-spectatorism, he will call me into the room every few minutes to watch plays that I not only wish not to see, but refuse to understand.

Example:

” COME WATCH THIS! *giant pause*What’s-his-face just did a random-sports-move! It was so awesome! Watch the replay! Only two other people in the history of whatever-sport-is-on-TV have ever done that before! It’s amazing!! *more pausing* DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU SEE IT?”

I’m all “YEAH! IT WAS AWESOME! *insert giant, double eye roll and smile*”

I love my husband. I love his sometimes child-like enthusiasm for grown men tossing and chasing balls around. But sometimes, it drives me a little batty.

And so with the love clarification set in stone, the baseball induced nervous breakdown I undergo every year carries out in this order:

April: It’s new again, and I just sort of nod my head and smile. I have somehow managed to forget the major interference it plays in my life for nearly half of the year due to the comatose-like break it takes from September to March.

May: Sick of it. Give me the damn remote. If I could shoot lasers out of my eyeballs, I’d destroy all baseballs.

June: Summer is here, and we might go watch a few games which will be nice, because YAY to drinking beers at the baseball field while watching a game. Meanwhile, at the home front, still pissed off it’s taking over my tv.

July: IRATE. GET THIS SHIT OFF MY TV. PRONTO! I DON’T CARE WHO HIT WHAT OR CAUGHT WHAT! Zippity freakin’ doo-dah!

August: thoughts are much too x-rated for this blog.

September: As if. ( I realize quoting the movie Clueless is not mature. It ranks right up there with using wikipedia as a source of information, but baseball brings out the worst in me.)

Now, since all of my favorite shows start coming on again this month, let us hope that my husband’s love for the Reds does not attempt to interfere with them. Which it probably won’t, since we love all of the same shows. Thanks to tivo, there is now some compromise about what is playing on our television, because if I have to miss my favorite shows for this bullshit, I become a little angry. (I’m sure if my husband had a blog, he would write an entry today about Grey’s Anatomy interfering with Reds games. More power to him.)

All I know is that if House, Grey’s Anatomy, ER, or the Office is interrupted by a “COME WATCH THIS” for me to run into the living room to watch some grown-ass man slide into a white diamond like that it’s glorified, I will scream.

In this post, I asked if you all would fill out some questions about yourselves. And several of you did, YAY!

1.) If you could skip any day of the week, which would it be?

Like many of you, I picked either Monday or Tuesday. Monday is just ridiculous, and Tuesday is so empty. I’m just ready for the weekend.

2.) What is your favorite book?

I don’t have an all around favorite. I love too many books to single just one out. So I guess this wasn’t a fair question to ask. *punches self in face*. When I was a child, my favorite book was ‘Brown Bear, Brown Bear’ if that counts.

3.) If you had lived back in the day when people though the Earth was flat, would you have been open to the new idea that Earth is actually round, or stayed with the old idea of flatness?

Oh, I would’ve been on the roundness like white on rice. Flat Earth? That is so jacked up.

4.) Can you roller skate?

I could, and I’m almost certain that this talent (?) is still one I possess. I loved roller skating back in the day.

5.) Are you right or left handed?

I’m a righty. My mother is a lefty. When I first started picking things up as a child and writing, I did so with my left hand, but everyone always placed the item in my right hand. I guess it stuck? I think that was sort of rude. If I wanted to use my left hand, I should’ve been able.

6.) What song do you most despise?

I hate ‘The Sign’ by Ace of Base. Or anything Phil Collins.

7.) What is the most embarrassing CD you own?
hmm, probably all of the Britney Spears CD looming in my garage.

8.) What one word can you NEVER manage to spell correctly without the assistance of spell check?
embarrass. I never spell this correctly. I always forget the double ‘r’.

8b.) What was the first cassette tape you ever purchased? (Not CD, cassette.)
Probably New Kids on the Block.

9.) What issue is currently bothering you the most?
My missing panties? Still MIA!
10.) Why do you visit Shamelessly Sassy? (Read: fishing for compliments to read after carrying massive boxes.)
To write my posts or see if things are aligning correctly.

11.) What is your greatest accomplishment?
My daughter. I’m always amazed that something so wonderful is from half of me. I’m sure I have a few other fabulous accomplishments like tying my shoes or finally hand washing a few dishes, but Allie is the greatest.

12.) Brag about yourself here. Why are you so awesome? (because you are, for sure. Particularly if you had good answers for (10).) What do you do best? What area are you the go-to person for?

I am really good at math. I’m also really handy to have around in awkward situations, or not. If you like inappropriate jokes in awkward situations, I am your go-to girl. I’m also a really good listener and talker. I can talk all day long. I’m also really good to watch movies with because that is one time that I do not talk (much). I’m also a very discreet snooper. That is all. (By the way, I realize that I was supposed to say ’snoop’ and not ’snooper’, but step back and look at the big picture.  Snooper is a much cooler word.)

We start the moving process today. So in a few hours, I will be without internet. My internet should be back within a few days. However, my cable company is quite sketchy, and that isn’t a guarantee. Anyhow, I just wanted to post this to let all know that if I go without posting for a few days, I haven’t kicked the bucket or met my maker or anything like that. I’m just moving.

Not that you spend extensive amounts of time worrying about me or anything. But I’m just saying.

Anyway, I picked up some new readers recently, and well, I think it’d be nice if you introduced yourselves and tell me a little about you. Old readers too. In case you have nothing to say, here are some questions I thought up, you can answer in the comments. And when I regain internet, I’ll answer them myself.

1.) If you could skip any day of the week, which would it be?

2.) What is your favorite book?

3.) If you had lived back in the day when people though the Earth was flat, would you have been open to the new idea that Earth is actually round, or stayed with the old idea of flatness?

4.) Can you roller skate?

5.) Are you right or left handed?

6.) What song do you most despise?

7.) What is the most embarrassing CD you own?

8.) What one word can you NEVER manage to spell correctly without the assistance of spell check?

8b.) What was the first cassette tape you ever purchased? (Not CD, cassette.)

9.) What issue is currently bothering you the most?

10.) Why do you visit Shamelessly Sassy? (Read: fishing for compliments to read after carrying massive boxes.)

11.) What is your greatest accomplishment?

12.) Brag about yourself here. Why are you so awesome? (because you are, for sure. Particularly if you had good answers for (10).) What do you do best? What area are you the go-to person for?

It would be awesome if some of you answered these questions. I’m really excited to see the results.

(Just in case anyone is internet challenged, the easiest way to go about doing this would be to copy and paste the questions into the comment section, and then answer below each one.)

Growing up, my favorite Aunt was always my gay Aunt Flo. When I talk about my Aunt Flo, I always have to refer to her as my Gay Aunt Flo or my Real Aunt Flo to new people in conversation . Mostly because lots of people refer to their period as ‘Aunt Flo’, but not I. I am talking about my actual Aunt Flo.

There are a lot of reasons I look up to my Aunt Flo. A lot of them stem from the respect I have for her, because I’m sure it was quite difficult to come out of the closet in this one horse town. She went through a lot of sideways glares to proudly be the person she is. She and her partner have been together quite a while, and their names even rhyme.

(Florencetta and Loretta, I kid you not.)

Before I was old enough to respect her in that sense, back when I just knew I had gay Aunt Flo and she was cool as a cucumber, she reigned supreme to me.

You see, while most of my relatives gave me strange Christmas gifts like socks or one-eyed babydolls, my Aunt Flo gave the coolest presents.

She had a giant Santa Clause-like bag that she would fill with either money or lottery tickets, and you got to draw one. If it was a lottery ticket (scratch-off), you got to scratch it, and whatever money you won (or didn’t win) was ours. If that year, she had the cash bag you just stuck your hand in the bag with money (mostly $1’s and $5’s) and drew out your Christmas present. One year, I got $100.In retrospect, the idea of letting all your nieces and nephews draw a scratch off ticket out of a bag for Christmas is pretty hilarious.

Awesome presents or not and laughing aside, my gay Aunt Flo has always been an important figure in my life. She has a fabulous attitude, and she is just a wonderful person. I have an overwhelming respect for her, and an overwhelming respect for the gay community.

You see, I was raised in a home where anything and everything was accepted. So sometimes it’s hard for me to understand when people have skewed views that involve hating people for their gender, race, sexuality, religion, or any other component for which a person should never be judged.

My mother is several years younger than my Aunt Flow, and she was woken up several times as a child from the sound of a brick or a rock being thrown through the window of the room she shared with Flo. This happened on way more than one occasion.

It was serious. Very serious acts of hatred. And it really makes me sick thinking about anyone being so fueled by narrow-mindedness.

Narrow minds (and the people that possess them) have always been silly to me. It was always silly to my mother (Flo’s sister). Yet, so many people in this one-horse town are marred with bigotry. And it makes me so sad.

My Aunt Flo is fabulous woman. She is thoughtful, intelligent, giving, homosexual,and hardworking. To me, none of those things stands out any farther than the other.

(And if you’re wondering, she still gives out scratch-off lottery tickets for Christmas. I won $25 last year. Woot!)

I’m having a really bad day, and bad days are rare for me. I normally eat sunshine, poop rainbows, and sing love songs about teddy bears. But today, it’s just not happening.

Mostly due to the fact that I find it frustrating when people are unable to differentiate between procrastination and carelessness. Procrastination is putting something off that you actually intend to do. However, carelessness can be putting something off because you never intend to do it.

I’m not knocking procrastination. I am its Queen.

I am,however, knocking procrastination as a form of carelessness.

To me, it is just irritating that a person might act as if they were procrastinating something they never intended to do. For instance, it might be saying you were going to throw a giant brick 20 ft later today, when you have no actual intention of throwing it to begin with.

(I don’t know what the hell a throwing a brick has anything to do with this, but it seemed like a partially tangible example. Roll with it.)

It’s just as simple as saying that you are not interested in doing something. It’s just as simple as saying that you have no intention of doing it. But giving me a 10-fold lame excuse involving doing it later, when that really isn’t going to happen is quite immature. Not only is it immature, it’s fucking exhausting.

I’m tired of hearing excuses for things that aren’t going to happen. It’s either yes or no. There is no “maybe later” for something that isn’t going to happen. Because, hell, it wasn’t going to happen in the first place. So how will it happen later? If it wasn’t ever going to happen, then it happening later is an impossibility.

Saying you’ll do something you don’t actually have true intentions of doing is simply a lie. A lie.

Thankyouverymuch.

I’m just fed up.

I need a nap.

Also, if you came here for a laugh but were let down by this strange combination of melancholy and rage, you should go check out all of the embarassing stories submitted to my contest so far. They are all pee-your-pants funny. Click here for laughs.

My daughter has a history of mumbling funny and incoherent things in her sleep. It is almost a guarantee that if Allie wakes up in the midst of sleep she will mumble something hilarious.

A few nights ago this occurred:

“MOOOOOOOOOOM!!!”

“Yes, Allie?”

“I was just making sure that my Daddy isn’t going to jail.” (dead serious.)

“Um, No. Not to my knowledge, I don’t believe your dad is in any danger of being jailed. No jail for daddy.”

“Okay. I was just seein’ if he was going to jail.”

“No, Allie. No jail.”

The whole time I was thinking that it might actually be here  mommy  that could  be the one going to jail if daddy doesn’t start assisting in the packing. Because hey, I am not the owner of the household man-suits.

And then my thoughts progressed to WTF? And I hate to break out the W-T-F on the world wide web, even if it is just via capital letters. ‘WTF’ means business. Because, seriously, WTF?

But really, where do kids get this stuff? The subtleties of simple conversation are amazing sometimes. And maybe I’m wrong, but I find my toddler waking up in the middle of the night wondering if her by-the-book , law abiding citizen of a father was heading off to the clink quite hilarious.

I suppose it wouldn’t have been funny if my reassurance had not been enough, and she had segued into a midnight blur of toddler worry. But she didn’t, and I’m thankful.

Either way, I think this is the result of  all  of that time she’s spending with Cleek? I knew she was a bad influence from day one.

Okay, I wasn’t sure how in or out of line I was when I posted this. But seriously, this is something we need to discuss.

“Woman Goes for Leg Operation Gets New Anus Instead”

A German retiree is taking a hospital to court after she went in for a leg operation and got a new anus instead, the Daily Telegraph is reporting.

The woman woke up to find she had been mixed up with another patient suffering from incontinence who was to have surgery on her sphincter.

The clinic in Hochfranken, Bavaria, has since suspended the surgical team.

Now the woman is planning to sue the hospital. She still needs the leg operation and is searching for another hospital to do it.

Really, I try not to touch on odd news. Don’t get me wrong, I read it. Boy, do I read it. I can’t get enough of the cyclic craziness that is news of the strange. But posting about it is a whole other story.

Post worthy or not, how angry would you be if you went in for a leg procedure and came out with a new Anus instead? Personally, I’d be quite angry. I’m sure anyone would that didn’t need a new Anus.

I’m also sort of curious about if this was actually a ‘new Anus’ or just a remodel of the old one?

Perhaps this story should be renamed to ‘Woman Goes in for Leg Operation, Leaves with Remodeled Anus.” Because I highly doubt they just gave a her a brand new one. I’m sure it was more of a remodeling job.

Your thoughts? (I promise that is the last time you will ever see the world anus on this blog. It probably just got me kicked out of every mommy group I belong to on the world wide web. )

You know, I find it rather strange that Adam’s only out of town trips so far this year have been during the time in which we are packing up our house. Hmm…I think that someone might be trying to escape the wrath of packing up all of the junk taking over our house.

As a result of this rampant avoidance of packing, I now present you with another picture of my husband in drag (at a halloween party dressed as a lady when he was a kid, fake mole drawn on and all):

( Husband: Seriously, man, you gotta start assisting in the packing. I know you say you’d rather rub sandpaper on your you-know-what than to pack, but it’s necessary. It has to be done. And quite frankly, I’ve got more of these pictures, and I will post them. Love always, your strife wife )

EDIT: My husband is very young in this picture. I promise he does not do this now. That I’m aware of anyway.

Familial obligation often leads me down many a strange path. Last Thursday night, that path led to a child’s birthday party that was being held in a smoke-filled bar where a multitude of rednecks were karaoking to gangster rap whilst surrounded by birthday balloons.

The truth of the matter is that I’d rather be beaten to death with a bag of hot nickels than ever relive this event.

You see, this restaurant is seemingly normal during the day. However, at some point when dark creeps in and the creepies crawl out, it turns into a seedy Karaoke Bar. It just so happened that the witching hour at which this transformation occurs was the same hour as birthday party. And that is more or less how I found myself in this place with my child attending another child’s birthday party.

It wasn’t the bar or the drinking at the 6 year old’s birthday party that was as alarming as the atmosphere itself. While I might have grown up in a very small country town, mass quantities of redneck tension all built up in one room always make me nervous–even in the midst of birthday cake! I’m serious. (I have trouble attending Country music concerts, because the mere thought of hundreds of rubes stumbling over me to touch someone’s guitar pick is sort of scary.)

Back to the party:

When I arrived, the lights were still on, giant speakers had yet to be set up, and it appeared as if this was a normal place. Then, not even five minutes after I’d been sitting, it all went to beans.

Not long after I ordered, the karaoke started and a bleached blond gal who called herself Wanda stepped up to the microphone to sing, “Did I Shave My Legs for This?” Aside from her sounding like a dying cat in hail storm, I guess it was an okay performance.

Additionally, 80’s Lady was busy doing the Electric Slide, which I thought had died out in the late 80’s and only still existed in the realm of middle school dances. But have no fear, Electric Slide fans, 80’s Lady is still representing for you all. You can always count on her to attempt to bring sexy back in her own strange little way. (Don’t worry she tried to do the Soulja Boy with all the young kids, also.)
Back to the story again:

Happy Birthdays were sang, gifts were open, and many of people were scarred for life. I had all but died and gone to redneck hell. My armpits were sweating, and I was half nauseous from all of the ‘ain’t’ s being thrown around.

Now that I think about it, I’m sure there were many other things going on around me that didn’t involve my sweating armpits. But when some couple walked with their sleeping baby in a car seat and sat it on the counter of the bar, I was on Mommy-watch and could no longer pay attention to anything else. If you’re a mother, you know what I mean. You probably even know what I mean if you have a pet. Maybe you have neither and know what I mean.

Mommy-watch is the stare you put on when there is an unattended child in an area, and for some reason, you noticed this child and feel completely obligated to his well-being. You have to watch this kid until you can pull yourself away, and hope his parents remember that he exits. It is very difficult to turn mommy-watch off.

Since this child’s car seat was literally sitting right on the bar, and his parents were off doing the Boot Scootin’ Boogy or some other god-awful line dance, I was visually babysitting him from 20 ft.away.

This went on forever. I can’t say I minded, because he was sleeping, and I half expected his mother to come over and ash her cigarette in his soft spot. At which point, I would’ve had to call her out (and I hate calling people out), and she would have stomped my ass, because she had someone’s name tattooed on her arm in Old English.

And well, I don’t mess with a girl that has anything tattooed on her arm in Old English. Unless she had ashed in his soft spot, then it would have been ON.

I kept trying to snap pictures of it with my camera phone, but it was dark, smokey, and once again, if this lady had caught me, I would’ve had to defend myself. And, while I say things ‘beaten to death with a bag of hot nickels’ and talk about poking people in the eye, I am not the least bit violent.

And the tattoo. It was just so manly. If it had a been a butterfly, I would’ve been less concerned. But Old English, man..she is tough. But I am pretty sure I could’ve beaten up the Kenny Chesney impersonator, that sounded more like goat getting hit by a car than a person, that she was carting around with her.

In the end, through out the bad karaoke, the beer soaked floor, my daughter being amazed (and inspired in the scariest way possible) by the karaokers, and the visual babysitting, all I could think about was that scene in ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ where Reese Witherspoon approaches her friend when she is back in her hometown and is all,

“YOU HAVE A BABY…………….IN A BAR!!!”

I love that movie.

You might be curious as to how one goes about attempting to accept crazy relatives, or maybe not. Either way, I’m going to let you in on it. Because honestly, if you’ve got crazies like 80’s Lady ringing your phone off the hook and bustin’ in your door at 10 p.m to tell you something stupid, then you need these steps.

1.) Denial and Isolation: At first, you may completely deny that you are related to this person by blood or marriage. It may seemed like fate dealt you a bad hand. Additionally, you might isolate yourself from the looney tunes. (Which, honestly, in some cases might be for the better..)

You might be saying to yourself, “Surely, this isn’t happening to me?”

Denial is particularly easy when they invite you attend their child’s birthday party…in a bar. (I promise this story is coming soon, and it’s so beautiful and completely reinforces the point.)

2.)Anger: Next, you might become deeply upset that you’ve been permanently linked to an idiot. Whether you were born into the family or it was a marital inheritance, it easy to be angry that that karma has decided to bit you in the hiney. Trust me, I understand.

Example: “This is SO not fair! Why did I get saddled with this basket case??”

This anger part really comes into play when the crazy relative fakes illnesses and calls every one in the family to let them know they have something bizarre like, “Oompa Loompa Syndrome”.

3.) Bargaining: At some point, you might begin making bargains, asking, “If I do *insert random good deeds*, will you please make *insert name of crazy relative* forget that I exist?”

Another example: “Just let me make it through this one family function…”

While attending the child’s birthday party–at the bar, I made several bargains about rewarding myself.

4.) The Blues: Maybe at some point, you become numb to the ridiculousness.

Example: “Ugh, *groan, spit kick!*”

Like last night, when 80’s Lady showed up at my house, because I wasn’t answering her calls just tell some new drama that has occurred in her life. After that, I developed the blues. I decided to become numb to her. Until, I woke up to her calling me again.
5.) Acceptance: Eventually, the anger and sadness you have as a result of feeling sorry for yourself for getting saddled with the looney tune will wear off. In the end, you have simply have to accept the fact that you are indeed related to the idiot. (Totally a lie.)

Example, “It’s going to be okay. Maybe they’ll get committed.”

I wish I had an example for this. But unfortunately, 80’s Lady has yet to put on her straight jacket.