My world of recovery, motherhood, life in the South, and other people's business
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Listen to this shizzle. Someone has ripped off my Pajama/Clothes idea!
EXHIBIT A:
I assume you agree that this is cause for a serious hissy fit. What do you think I should do? After I order these jeans in every color, I mean? You can’t just go around stealing people’s million dollar ideas! INJUSTICE!!!!
Tags: hissy fits, resentment
Poor ole Mississippi seems to be the step-child of the Gulf Coast. Oil is washing on its (her?) shores and all we hear about on the news is Louisiana. I have nothing against Louisiana, but I’m partial to the good folks over in Mississippi since I worked with them in the days following Hurricane Katrina. (Don’t tell me that all you think about with Katrina is New Orleans, or I might have a hissy fit.) These people were too proud to accept help from volunteers; we had to shove food and water at them. They were embarrassed that we helped clean their homes, but were grateful for every little kindness shown to them. This was not the case for all of the victims. (I’m not mentioning where, but it rhymes with Boo Horlians.) Surely there are honest and dishonest people everywhere, so don’t take this as a slam on Louisiana. But let’s notice their neighbor, you know the one that is on the other side of the Mississippi River/oil slick. Let’s look at a few special things about Mississippi:
Uh-huh. Well, there you go. Where would the world be without bottled Coke? I mean, come on! And what about the pairs of shoes? I wear pairs, don’t you? Thank you, Mississippi. And a big shout-out for all the rights afforded women – can I get a WOO-HOO?
Please don’t get me started on Alabama. If oil starts spilling on Alabama’s shores, we are gonna open a can of whoop-ass. I am not having 20 plastic surgeries to go to a class reunion, only to have oil stick to my new shoes (the ones I haven’t bought yet, but assume will not coordinate with oil). (I bet you were wondering how I was going to turn this oil spill to being about ME, right? You have forgotten what a knack I have for these things.)
Much love to the ENTIRE Gulf Coast. Sorry you are dealing with yet another clusterf$ck.
Tags: hissy fits, irritants, selfishness, shoes
I was thinking about my dad’s old girlfriend Sandra today, but don’t read her name as “Sandra” since she will have a conniption. It is actually pronounced “Saundra”, like “sauna” except with “dra” at the end. So naturally my brother and I called her “Sandy” because that’s just the kind of little jerks we were back then. Dad met her when we were in high school and he actually moved to a different city to be with her. This was very convenient for us, as parents can be quite tedious when you’re trying to be a teenager. The most annoying thing about the situation was that Dad took a piece of art in our living room out of its frame and replaced it with the cocktail napkin on which Sandra had written her name and number. We’d have our friends over and have to explain that our dad was a goober and that’s why we had a cheesy cocktail napkin framed in our house. I have no idea why that made me so mad; maybe I should add that to the list to ask a therapist about. But anyway, Sandra was a nice person. Her most offensive character trait was trying to befriend me in a mother-daughter fashion, which culminated in my explaining to her that I already had well over my quota of parents and I really wasn’t shopping for any more. So anyway – and I realize that’s a really long introduction to get to my point, but sometimes I have a habit of giving too many details and going on about things – she had this condition where her skin didn’t produce natural oils. She had to apply lotion all the time, and her hands were still always a dry, cracked mess.
All of that to say that I was looking at my hands today and they are not the hands of my youth. I need to add to my class reunion to-do list to get hand transplants. Call me if you know a good donor, size XS.
Tags: brother, high school, hissy fits
Dear Department of Family & Children Services,
Yes, that is my little girl wearing her dress over her pajamas to school. And yes, I realize they are Christmas pajamas with little reindeer and Santa Clauses on them. Yes, I realize it is February. See, here’s what happened. It was laundry day so I put her in the Christmas pj’s last night. Then this morning she threw a fit – no, a HISSY fit – when I tried to take off her pajamas. She really, really, really wanted to wear her dress over her pajamas, and I just thought, well what the hell?
No, I do not drink or do drugs. (Are you kidding me? I would never have let little G go to school in her pj’s back when I was a drinker, lest you think I was a drinker.) She is really well cared for; she’s just going through a little independent phase. Really, we’re fine. But thanks for checking.
Subourbon Wife
P.S. Yes, as a matter of fact, those are pink and purple cookie sprinkles on her grilled cheese sandwich. But that’s a whole ‘nother story.
Tags: daughter G, DFCS, hissy fits
