A Mile a Minute: The World of Mrs. Saditty

Click! (subtitled another aha! moment)

So because of a teacher's inservice today, Biggest Saditty had no school. I considered leaving him at the daycare portion of the school where Middle and Itty Bitty spend their days but decided to take a vacation day and spend some time with him. For nearly two years, it was just he and I against the world and I felt kind of nostalgic when I thought about those days. So anyway, we dropped the two babies off and headed to our first destination--Cracker Barrel. We were seated and our drinks soon arrived. As I dunked my tea bag into the hot water, I watched as Biggest peered at the peg game, trying to figure out the dynamics before he invited me to play. My phone began to ring. I looked at the caller ID and sent the caller to voicemail. She called right back. Again, I sent her to voicemail. As he and I began to play the peg game, a text message pinged from my phone. "Hey, call me back. It's urgent." I excused myself from the game and opened the small box of crayons and suggested that he color the picture as I returned the phone call. After he embarked on coloring, I dialed my friend back.

Me: Hey. I got your text message. What's up?

Her: Oh, are you at work?

Me: No, I am off today. Biggest and I are in Cracker Barrel on a date. Our food should be here soon.

Her: Forreal? That's nice. But lemme tell you about....................................

So, after a few minutes of her ranting on about her latest personal emergency, I started to wonder what part of the 'emergency' was so urgent. Now, keep in mind that she knows that I rarely ever get one on one time with any of my kids and if I am not mistaken, I had JUST told her that I was doing just that. She went on and on about one of her issues that we are constantly discussing. It goes like this---she presents me with a problem. I give her a solution. She sits on the phone and gives me rebuttals and tells me why my solutions are wrong. You guessed it---it's a waste of time to give this person any type of advice. But anyway...

I grab a crayon and start coloring with Biggest and she is still going on and on but stops occassionally to say, "Are you still there? Are you listening?" I grunted an affirmative response and she kept on. So our food came and I loudly asked the waitress for Tabasco and another tea bag. She kept talking. I asked Biggest if he needed help cutting his bacon, she kept talking. I started chewing and smacking loudly into the phone----and this heffa STILL kept talking.  I started a few times to tell her I'd call her back but she ignored my attempts to interrupt. I zoned back in and realized that she was still talking about her one of her "issues". The same issue that I have been giving her the same advice on for about four months. Then, something snapped in my head and I gently laid the phone down. I have nothing but rollover minutes PLUS, she is a mobile to mobile call. I was curious as to see how long she would talk before she noticed that I was not listening. I enjoyed a large portion of my country breakfast and held polite conversation wtih Biggest for several minutes before my phone lit up with my Icons screen, indicating that the call had disconnected. Cool. Maybe she got the picture. Hell no!!! No sooner had the screen died down, it lit up---this heffa was calling right back! Then, a logic thought came to me. Don't friggin answer! Duuuuuuuuh! So we finished up breakfast (I would love to know WHEN this child's appetite got so big!), talked about the weather, Thomas, Sir Toppemhat, and the new friends on his baseball team. We talked about his red bat and how he was going to hit the balls to Jupiter and knock a ring off Saturn. Needless to say, we enjoyed the tail end of our date. By the time I paid the check and bought a bunch of the irresistable junk that surrounds the checkout, old girl had called me four more times.

When we made it to my truck, I called her back.

Her: Oh girrrrrl. You are so rude.

Me: Rude? Child didn't I tell you that Biggest and I were in the middle of breakfast?

Her: Yeah but you should've told me to call you back.

Me: How could I do that when you never let me get a word in? You can't hear what I am saying if you are too busy listening to yourself talk.

Her:  ::::::::::::::::::click::::::::::::::::::::

I guess she waited for me to call her back? Holding your breath will make you turn blue. Anyway, the lesson here?

Anyone who knows me knows that I am long-winded and a talker by nature. I gab on the phone on my way to work, on my way from work, on the way to pick up the kids, after I pick up the kids (they ignore Mommy and talk only to eachother while we are driving), while I cook dinner, while my husband watches the Sci-fi channel...you get the picture. I always have time for others and am a great listener---but some people really abuse that. Take my 'friend' for instance. The only time she can talk is during the day...if her boyfriend is around, she is NOT answering the phone. You could be stuck on the side of the road---good luck to you because she will not divert her attention from him. But when he is not around, she will bombard you with talk. But I digress...that is not really the isse.

Real Talk....since finding out that I am going to be a Mommy once again, I've been thinking a lot about TIME. Yes, time. How fast it flies, how I never held my other babies enough while they were small, how even though we took hundreds of pictures of them as babies, we still didn't take enough. How they grow up in no time and become little Nazis who try to tell you off in an instant. Time. Family time, time for myself. Just time in general. Then I start to think about some people who have no regards for other people's time. I am sure you know one or two. They can only think of themselves. You know that friend/cousin/inlaw/insertthepersonsnamehere who calls you anytime they have something going on. You can tell them that you are in the middle of a lobotomy, being pulled over by the police, or that Jesus Christ is walking the Earth and he just stopped by your house to have a Coke and discuss your eternal fate and what will that person do? They will say, "Forreal? But anyway, lemme tell you about......"  Oh, you know that person too? When you do open your mouth to say in plain English, "I'm busy, let me call you back." They ususall reply with, "I'll let you go but first let me tell you about..........." which normally turns into a whole nother rant.

Now that we have established that these people do exist, I blame myself for allowing them to ignore my silent pleas to talk to them another time. For example, my friend Felicia and I talk over my kids screaming in the background and her son doing his thang in her background and we've learned to zone them out. Thats just how we are. But in other instances, I have enough respect to recognize when I've called a friend at an inopportune time and say, "Girl, just call me back when you get a chance." But I guess I am not like some people? Some people will take your kindness as a good listener and friend for granted. Their personal issues will take a frontseat to everything in your life. They don't care what you have going on, as long as they get a chance to talk about their favorite subjects: Self, self, and self. Which brings me to my aha! moment. Just.hang.up. Sound rude? As a person who keeps her phone glued to her, if I don't answer, I am really and truly busy. Send me the "Urgent" text message for something that can truly wait? Click! Now, I know its really rude to intentionaly disconnect a call but how rude is it to blatantly disregard someone's time? I thought you would agree. So, that was my aha! moment of the day. I'll leave you guys with a picture of Biggest (I swear I need to start calling these kids by their names!)on our date. Love ya'll, thanks for listening and don't be afraid to call me! LOL!! MrsS

 

Alllll I Need is a Sink

I appreciate a wide variety of product choices but why am I married to an indecisive man who tells me, "I like the one that you like." Did I ever say that I hate home improvement?

A Healthy, Mid-Day Rant

Today, I had a situation that prompted me to transfer money from my savings at an Internet bank to my checking account at a local bank. No problem. I accessed the website from my Blackberry and immediately received a red flag. The system recognized that I was accessing the account from a device or computer that had not been used before therefore I would need to answer a few verification questions.

Keep in mind I set up this account at least 5 years ago and the security questions/answers were long forgotten. After locking myself out and screaming for a few seconds straight, I dialed the 1800# "if you are having problems" number. I answered all the questions that the voice response service asked me and felt like a total dummy as I yelled out "No", "Speak to a representative", and my zip code. After what seemed like forever, a representative with a heavy Indian accent (thanks NAFTA!!!!) introduced herself as Rachel and asked how she could assist me. I told her I was locked out of my account and waited confidently for her to unlock it. "Rachel" then began asking me a long series of questions:

• Name
• Social Security Number or Account Number
• Statement Zip Code
• Mother's Maiden Name

I answered all of "Rachel's" questions with ease. Then, the questions started getting weirder....

• What is the name of your favorite pet, living or dead? Ummmm...Slick?
• Who do you most admire? Ummm...I guess my Dad?
• What celebrity living or dead would you most like to meet? Ummm Jesus Christ or Maxine Waters?
• What is your favorite type of music? Jazz?
• Who is your favorite artist? Gordon Parks?

"Rachel" then said it was unfortunate but I had answered a few questions wrong and because of that, she could not give me access to my own account which holds my own money. That was the exact moment that Ghetto Mary came out. The rational person living inside of me knows that "Rachel" is only a representative of the company but that rational person was out to lunch. I let her have it and continued to do so until the call "disconnected".

I had to find a place to park for several minutes, open the back of my truck, get my laptop out of it's bag, and boot it up. I would simply have to steal a wireless signal to get online and access my account from a "recognized" computer. Well wouldn't you know---the world has become a virtual hotspot but yet there was no wireless signal for me to steal. Why oh why did I get rid of my aircard?? Back to the laptop bag, search for a USB cable, tether my laptop to my Blackberry. Wait a looooooooong time for a connection, go to the site. Voila! I was able to access my account. BUT BEFORE THEY SHOWED ME THE MONEY, there was a message that an unauthorized access attempt had occurred and for security purposes, I had to answer a new set of security questions to which I should not forget the answers. Here.we.go.again. The new questions were even more ridiculous than the old set. I pulled an equally ridiculous answer out of thin air for each and copied and pasted everything into a text file.

After nearly an hour, I was able to do what should've taken me less than 5 minutes to do. As I sat back, catching my breath and calming down, MrSaditty called to see how my day was going....I love my husband sometimes(lol). He was able to turn my frustration into laughter...we sat around a few minutes, discussing what kinds of security questions would be asked if and when this happened again. Here is what we came up with:

• When you were 7, your Mom bought some Neopolitan ice cream in a plastic bucket. What flavor was placed in the middle?
• What kind of cheese did you get on your sandwich the last time you went to Subway?
• In 11th grade, you and Bobby Bates were grinding to a song at a Sadie Hawkins dance. What song was playing?
• What is the radius of the room in which you gave birth to your youngest child?
• What flavor was the yogurt that Itty Bitty smeared all over the walls when she turned 2?
• How many carmelized shortbread cookies were in the pack that you were given the last time you were on a Continental Airlines plane?
• Who sat in the seats to your immediate left and right of you at your college graduation?

It's great to be able to find humor in frustration.  But seriously, how can anyone steal my identity if I can't verify my own? Damn. Anybody out there want to add their rant? Anyone want to add to the list of future security questions? Holla if you hear me! MrsSaditty

The Invisible Pimp

For those of you who do not have kids yet, sit back and take notes so you won't get played like we did. For Single people, you may have met one of these Pimps. For those of you with kids, you probably already know the Invisible Pimp. In fact, some of you may BE an Invisible Pimp....hmmmm...eitherway, I am about to call this person out so that you too will be able to recognize the Invisible Pimps.

Who are said pimps, you ask? Let us discuss.

Pimp #1: Throws a large birthday party in the backyard every year for ALL of her kids. This party has a DJ, a fun jump, a clown, and more adults than kids. At each party, she invites your whole family and tells you that she will be serving kid food and "real food". So you and your whole family go (hey, she insisted). You feel guilty about bringing your whole crew (husband, bad azz kids) so you overspend on the gift (as the pimp Mom) knew you would. The birthday kids opens up a mountain of expensive gifts while you munch on a chili dog and your husband slurps the beer that the pimp and her husband keep pushing on him. After about an hour and a case of beer, you notice the birthday kid strutting around with $5, $10, and $20 bills pinned to his/her shirt just as you notice your happily tipsy husband putting his wallet back in his pocket. Sound familiar? Yep, you been pimped!

Pimp #2: Throws kid(s) a party at a food place. Not a food place like McDonald's or Chuck E. Cheese where SHE pays and you buy a gift. A food place like Bennigans where you have to buy your and your kid's food (about $20-$30 if you order a decent drink to entertain yourself with while the kids party). Then, add in the gift that she actually made up a registry for. Yes, registry. Or, the ridiculously priced PSP game she hinted that her kid would love. Or the Brats Corvette that she wasn't too shame to ask you to buy. Your food+your kids food+gift= AT LEAST $60. Mom then tells you some excuse about the bakery messing up the cake order. When the restaraunt crew brings out the fuzzy chocolate whipped cream surprise and sings Happy Happy Birthday, your kid will or course scream for one too. Birthday kids cost? Free. Your kids cost? $5.95. Sound familiar? Yep, ya been pimped.

Pimp #3: The artsy crafty Mom who throws the party at the Ceramics Workshop or better yet Build-a-Bear! You send your kid with $20-$30 each(remember, I have 3 small ones and pimp Mom insists that they ALL to attend) PLUS a gift for the birthday kid. With me so far? Now add up the costs of you wandering around the mall and buying a bunch of shyt you do not need because you do not want to be in the Build-A-Bear Workshop around 30 screaming kids. You walk back to pick your kids up and one of them is screaming because they cannot afford to buy the bear a leather motorcyle jacket like Daddy has. You cave in from the screaming (and embarrassment) and pay the extra $12 for the jacket. As you leave, you hear the Invisible Pimp bragging that her child got a free Bear (on top of all the gifts that the guests bought) because they brought in so much revenue to the store. Sound familiar? Yep, you have been pimped.

**Footnote: you will catch the above pimps bragging that they never have to buy their kids gifts because the guests at the party go all out. WTF?

Pimp #4: I only met this Pimp when my step-kids came to live with us and started school in the Twisted Mayberry where we moved. This pimp gives her 12 year old a birthday party at a "hall" and on the invitation, puts $3 admission in lieu of gifts. Fine. When you go to drop the kids off, you notice that "the hall" is a club with a live DJ. The looks strangely like a club you used to visit but you don't remember it being open during daylight hours. The Mom is sitting on a barstool, collecting money at the door. She assures you that the club is simply the family business and no liquor will be sold or served to the kids.Oh, besides admission, you also did not have to bring a gift because refreshments are being SOLD. Yes, your kids can buy hot dogs, nachos, and sodas for $1 each. Yeah, you heard me. I have been pimped!

Pimp #5: I cut this pimp's game short. WHO...no...WHAT kind of mom holds a co-ed babyshower for the people in her 13 year old daughter's class??? I wouldn't know because I tore the invitation to shreds.

Pimp #6: Has had 4 babies and has had a babyshower for each one. Invites people (like you) that she never speaks to as well as people that she has been friends with for years. Now one would think that after the fourth baby, she would have everything, even a damned birthing table and PICU incubator. But no. For baby # 5, she has a registry and artsy boutique like places and has scanned things like a changing table and dresser. Is this chick for real? Oh, did I forgot to say that her husband/babydaddy/significant other is holding a "Diaper Shower" and inviting your husband?? She got you with the first and second but hopefully, you declined the invitation to the third, fourth, and fifth. What? You didn't? You, my friend, have been pimped.

Pimp #7: Has a baby but is too humble to have a baby shower. Instead, she and her husband (or babydaddy) select five to nine sets of god-parents. You and your husband or s/o feel honored but are confused because you don't know these folks all like that. Things go okay and you give gifts on birthdays, Easter, Christmas, etc. but don't hear from these folks otherwise. One day, you have friends over and after the second bottle of wine, your friend's husband tells you that they are little Bobby's godparents too. Then another friend says so is her sister. Then, you realize that the humble parents have not bought a THING since lil Bobby was born because all the sponsers godparents have been PIMPED!

Pimp #8: Invites you over to her place for "Girl's Night Out" or "Pampering Spa Party". She greets you at the door with a very potent Margarita or dry Martini. You have a seat on the couch with a few of your other girls who arrived before you but look very pissed off for some reason. You look up from the couch and see a homely azz looking Mary Kay lady with craters on her face telling you (who is wearing the finest MAC that your budget can bear) that you need a facial and a make-over and she will be the one to make up look beautiful. The hostess attempts to shut her up but not before Miss Mary Kay tells you that if you purchase over $100 worth of crap, all the hostesses products will be free. If you don't get up and away from this ugly azzed woman and your scheeming azzed friend, you WILL be pimped!

The Final and 8th Type of Pimp: This pimp and his hizzoe have been shacking for nine years. They decide to buy a home. In your mailbox, there is an invitation for a "Housewarming Party". Now, you bought them a really nice gift for their engagement party and planned on getting them a really nice wedding gift (but nine years after being engaged, they still are not married but purchasing a house together). Like several of the aforementioned Pimps, this Pimp and his Hizzoe are registered at places like Pier One and the Bombay Company. They want you to buy shyt for their new home that they couldn't or wouldn't buy in NINE years of shacking up. If you even go to a housewarming for this kind of pimp, you have DEFINITELY BEEN PIMPED.

Ya'll know we got some kids over here. Out of love for our kids and respect for the budgets of our friends and family, we seldom throw parties. For the babies, I bring cake, treats, and party favors to school (all 3 of the little ones have parties during school/daycare months) and we call it a party. The older kids? We take them to the restaurant of their choice and let them order off the grown folks side of the menu. Oh yeah, we get them a pretty ok gift also. In the past, I have spent so much on other people's parties that I feel like a sucker. I don't mind going to the occassional one but please, let us stop pimping those that we consider friends!

Stop Snitching, My Azz

Today afterwork, I performed my usual routine and picked up the kids after work. Earlier, I received a call from a fellow Labor Relations activist from New Orleans telling me that he was in town and had materials to give me. Since the hall is kinda out of the way, we agreed to meet at a gas station near a major intersection. I arrived early (force of habit) and backed into a spot next to the payphones. With the high price of gas, I switched off my truck's engine and let the windows down a bit.

As I was asking the kids about their day, an older man walked up to me to ask if I had any change. I replied no and he respectfully walked away to beg other patrons of the gas station. After a while, I noticed him signaling to a young man standing under the carporch of a house across the street. There were a few girls sporting hard hair lingering about in the yard but I didn't pay them much attention.

Well, the young man darts cars crossing the street and walks towards the older man who has a fistful of wrinkled bills. Well, the parkling lot of this national chain of gas stations is HUGE...I kinda figured what was up so I figured they would take it in back of the building or something. NOPE. Where did they walk? Next to the payphones, right next to MY FRIGGIN TRUCK.

I started talking louder to the kids in an attempt to distract them but because the young man slapped the older man around a few times, the kids couldn't stop looking. Then, before I could roll up my window, the younger man took the money, gave the older man his issue and started walking. He stopped.dead.in.front.of.my.window. He peeked in at me and the kids and said (and I quote), "Ya'll need something too?" In.front.of.my.children. I would've felt better if he would've spat in my face.

The stunned look on my face must've said it all because he laughed his ass off as he walked back across the street. Without even thinking (yeah, Imma get shot one day) I was on the phone with my good friends over at 9-1-1. If you wanna slang dope, fine. If you wanna slang dope next to my truck, still fine. But when you practically stick your face in my window to clown me and my kids about some dope? Police IZ gettin called.

The dispatcher asked me for his location, description, etc. and then told me to move to another location. I drove around and backed up in the front right of the store. After about seven minutes, I was cussing the police out and saying that they wasn't shyt. Meanwhile, my friends were peeping the lot. Two of them walked over to the store and purchased beverages. The one who did the deal looked my way a few times but didn't do much. A few minutes later, my cell rang and a Sprint/Nextel number appeared (I love working for the phone company)...although my call was anon, I knew they had the ability to dial me back.

The officer asked me a few questions and asked me which guy was the one who did the deal because there were two wearing white shirts. I didn't see any police anywhere but told the officer on the phone that it was the one on the left. Pretty soon, a cruiser passed slowly in front of the house and then sped away. One of the girls with the hard hair walked in the house and then walked back out towards the purple Buick (yes, purple) parked in the yard. Before she could get in, a cruiser with it's lights on flew out of nowhere followed by two more cruisers. Officers jumped out. It looked like a scene from Mr. S's favorite show, The Shield.

I figure that the police didn't go on my call alone. Either there were previous complaints OR the cruiser that passed saw suspicious activity or persons. Before you know it, everyone (including the gals with the hard hair) was on the ground and one of the guys had a knee in his back. My fellow activist drove up during the action. As he opened his trunk, I looked up and saw one of officers talking on a radio with what looked like driver's licenses in his hand. My fellow activist and I talked for a few and then he got in his car and droe away. I peered thru the crowd that had formed and saw the guy who stuck his face to my window being put into a cruiser followed by one of the females. I didn't stick around to see what happened to the rest of the crew but either the cops found "stuff" or ol boy and ol girl had warrants because the cruiser that they were seated in drove away. . I drove away with my head pounding.

I told Mr. S the story and although he believes in standing up for what is right, he scolded me, saying I could've been killed. How dramatic. I don't use the term "disrespect" often but that is what I felt today...in a MAJOR way...in front of my kids. Yeah, they could've shot me or approaced my truck before the cops showed up but just like they have a weapon, I have a weapon. The difference? I am a Mom with a truck full of babies and my piece is registered, locked in my g-box (along with my concealed license), clean, with no bodies on it. If anybody else would've approached me, he had better be a quick draw because the status of my weapon would've changed. Yes, it is that serious.

In a nutshell, I gotta say this. People in inner cities and once nice suburbs are scared to call the cops. Once upon a time, the cops would've come and done something but now criminal activities have gotten so normal because everyone is scared. Scared to get called a snitch. Scared to get shot by teenagers. The hookers and ghettodaddies and catmamas and pimps and dopeslangers have taken over and the decent people's territory is getting smaller and smaller. Call what I did today brave or do as most people would do--call it stupid but ask me if I would do it again.....in a heartbeat.

An Alarming, Senseless Trend

Tonight, I planned to blog and complain about the costs and rigamarole associated with back to school but am so side-tracked. I just got off the phone with my sister...now my sister is in her 40's, educated, and holding her own. Her husband is another story but we won't go there. His ex-wife decided that she didn't want the kids back at the end of the Summer. It was enough that they were sent alone on a damned Greyhound bus from Houston with the clothes on their back at the beginning of Summer. Now, my childless sister has new responsibility. I guess I am so down because I have been there and have survived the blending process (hardly) and didn't want that for someone else that I love. It was not easy but the fact that I spent nearly 2 years as a single parent gave me an edge. It got hard enough for me to want to throw in the towel but I rode the wave. When I was a kid, I knew very few kids who didn't live with their parents. Those few kids had parents who were deceased or in prison. Then, in the 90's, we saw a rise of kids abandoned by their fathers. Then, kids were being raised by Grandparents too old to raise kids or girls too young to be Moms. Now, women are actually abandoning their kids. Giving them away to good homes, one by one, like a new litter of kittens. It makes no sense. Me, my sister, a few girlfriends, and a co-worker are all raising kids abandoned by their Mothers. I love the kids and have been blessed beyond belief for assuming the role, but seriously people---what's with parents resigning their roles as parents? How can people detach so easily from their own flesh and blood?

Up in the Air

Those who know me will admit that I am extremely opinionated. Tonight, while watching an episode of Nancy Grace that I recorded a week or so ago, I decided that sometimes, I have no clear opinion. There was a story of a 3 year old believed to be the child of a Guatemalan immigrant found wandering in Wal-Mart. The boy spoke very little English but was wearing a backpack. In the backpack was a note from thew boy's Mom saying that she could no longer afford to take care of him. Nancy (who I normally agree with) was outraged at this Mom's actions. Of course I had to press pause so I could cry for a few. I have a three year old and can't imagine him being left to wander. BUT, I am torn. Compared to Mothers who murder and abuse, this Mom decided she could not take care of this baby and left him in an area where he could be found. Perhaps she fantasized about him being found by a rich American and raised with better opportunities. Maybe she was young and homeless. True enough, she could've taken him to a state agency to "surrender" him but there would've been endless questions and possibly jail. On the flip side, I've been a single Mom who had a hard time making ends meet but I busted azz so my baby could eat. I never copped out or threw in the towel. The tv has been turned off for a while now but the story is still haunting me. Tell me...was this an act of love or a crime?

I THINK I love my husband...

Just as I unpacked my bag from last week's trip, I got the news that a favorite Uncle who resides in another state passed away. My initial reaction was shock because he was not ill. He survived two tours in WWII, 30 years as a policeman, and two wives. As I repack, I feel numb. I guess am still in denial.

So, speaking of re-packing bags...I decided to use a set of luggage that I hadn't used in quite sometime. I figured the summery color might cheer me up. So I go to the closet of the rear bathroom to retrieve the bags, take them into my bedroom and open up the largest bag. What do I find? A cache of stuff that my husband apparently hid from me. Most of it was minor, like a few bottles of Coke and plenty of Red Bulls, which he is not supposed to have (Doctor's and wife's orders).

Well one thing in particular burned me up. Let me give you a briefing before I explain what I found. I have to come clean with you guys...three years ago when I was pregnant with Middle Bitty Saditty, I fell in with a bad crowd and developed an addiction. How bad was my addiction? Very bad. Burning dinner bad. Letting Big Saditty eat cookies for breakfast on Saturday morning bad. Late for work because I stayed up too late playing bad. Honey, we can talk as soon as I finish and save this game bad. I'm in labor but don't you dare forget to take my laptop with us to the hospital bad. Yes, The Sims were controlling me instead of me controlling them! I was more concerned about cleaning their houses and feeding their pets than I was maintaining my own home and pet.

Then, one day, they all went away. MrSaditty told me that Biggest Saditty had stomped on the discs and broken them, causing him to throw everthing away. I suspected and almost accused someone of lifting them. And now today...waaaaaaaay later....I find that he has been doing like Mista of Color Purple fame...Hiiiiding stuff from folks. Needless to say, he got a good cussing out. He tried to plead his case, saying that he realized that I had a problem. My Mom called while I was cussing him out. She could not understand why I was mad.

"At least he ain't had a woman hiding in that back closet," is what my dear Mom said.

::::::insert loudly chirping crickets here::::::

After all the cussing and fussing, we agreed that I would play the game in gentle moderation. Can you guess what I shall b doing when I get home on Sunday??

Larry King Live-Space Alien Caught on Tape

Some things considered "newsworthy" continue to amaze me. With global warming, lack of healthcare, and crime on the rise,other things continue to draw media attention. Check this out: Larry King Live- Space Alien Caught On Tape. Can things get any more ridiculous?

All Bets Are Off

What is this you ask? This is a picture of my husband snatching his winnings out for a bet out of my hands. What was the bet about, you ask? We have friends. Let's call them "John" and "Mary". Mary called me early Monday morning, frantic because John did not come home Sunday night. She called the hospitals, police, etc. I know (on the cool that John is the dog of all dogs but you can't tell Mary anything about John). I comforted her and promised to pray for John's safe return. My husband and I speculated on what kind of story he would give her THIS TIME (notice I said this time). Mary sends me a text early Tuesday saying that John did not come home Monday night either. She furiously told me that unless he was dead somewhere, it was over. Finito. My husband laughed and bet me that she would fall for the okey-doke. I said that my friend would not fall for the okey-doke yet again. We placed a friendly wager. I tried calling Mary yesterday to check on her and she didn't answer. Well today, she finally returned my call-whispering. It seems like Sunday night, on his way home from his Mom's house, John stopped at the bar to have a drink. One drink turned into several. He got sloppy drunk and was too ashamed to face his wife. He rented a hotel room in order to sober up. The next morning, he realized how upset his wife would be with him not coming home and all so he slept in his truck when he got off work. He prayed that she would forgive him and was scared to return home after two days because he knows women get crazy ideas about their men cheating all the time. He gathered up his courage and returned home. Mary: MrsS, I cussed his azz out! From now on, if he wants to drink, he better drink at home! Of course, MrsS couldn't say a damned thing because she was still wondering what kind of wife would believe that story. All I could do as she gabbed away was reach for the $$ and fork it over to MrS. Is being alone so bad? When did we as women start believing anything just to have a man?