There is an Atlantic Book Outlet on the Boardwalk that we visit every summer. Now when we leave home, I tend to bring a paperback, you know, something not too heavy to carry and read on the beach.  I go to the outlet and get the heavier books to read during my winter hibernation.  For me, it’s like a kid going into a toy store. I have to check out a lot of books before I settle on two or three. Last year’s choices were Aimee Liu’s “Flash House” and  Loren D Estleman’s “The Undertaker’s Wife”.  They have been sitting under my coffee table for a year.

Before leaving for the shore last year, I started reading Stephen King’s “Duma Key”. So, when I got home, I put away the new books so that I could finish reading that.  Instead of reading, however,  I got involved in making a needlepoint wedding gift for a friend. This took longer than I had hoped, and before I knew it, Christmas was here.  One of my gifts was “Pride and Prejudice and Zombies” by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith. Well, I just had to read that one right away!

Other books were started and never finished. This is a new occurrence for me. I never leave a book halfway read. And so, this spring, I began gathering up the books and read them.  (Don’t bother with “The Weekend” by Peter Cameron -or maybe do-it gets great reviews but I felt it was a waste of time) I finally finished “The Lovely Bones” by Alice Sebold. I can’t imagine how I could have put it down to begin with!

At long last, today I was ready to start a new book. I decided on “Flash House”. I actually got excited about it. I poured a cup of coffee and turned off the television. I opened the cover to read the jacket , as is my habit. It serves to whet my appetite. Now. I am ready. I flip through to the first page of the first chapter only to find…

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS TRICKERY???

Oh, yes. It’s the old bait and switch. Do I still have the receipt?  NO.  Is it worth a two hour drive to get to the store and complain about it?  NO. And besides, it’s over a YEAR ago!.

So now I have this book that isn’t my usual cup of tea. I have to admit that the description sounds intriguing. I plan on reading this one and I hope it isn’t another book that I will read and put aside without finishing it.

I’m all for expanding my horizons and trying new things. Books just never figure into my “new things to try”.  I guess this is one of those lemons life has given me.

Now I gotta make some lemonade…..

Dear Neighbor,

I’m sorry if you think I was rude.  I was sweating my ass off in the sun. I was picking up grass divots while you stood there asking me if  “it’s a hot job?”   You may be a professor of Criminal Justice, but you are as stupid as a rock.  I tried to be polite….really I did. I just didn’t feel the need to tell you how hard Hubby and I were working when it was obvious that we were soaked with sweat.  It was obvious from the shovels and the bags of mulch.

I also tried to be nice to your kids, who kept coming over to ask why we were digging in the dirt, where is my dog, did I squirt Hubby with the hose (Is that how he got wet?)  They are kids and I really couldn’t tell them to go the fuck away.  Besides, how could they know any better when their mother was the one who started the game “20 Questions”?

When you finally went away, I could still hear your whiny, nasal voice cajoling your kids into behaving. “Wanna go in the house? Wanna put on your bathing suit? Why don’t we go get your bathing suit? If we do, you can play in the pool. Do you wanna do that?”  WTF?  You say, “Get in the house and get your bathing suit so we can swim.  No? Fine,  get in the house and take a nap!”  How could you let them walk all over you like that? Why let them get into the pool with their clothes on? You’re a spineless jelly-fish. 

Your spiel never let up. “Here’s the rules! Here’s the rules!” and then “Take turns or else! One…..Two……Eric, take turns now! One…..Two…..”  THE NEXT ONE IS FUCKING THREE!!!!  Now smack his ass and take him into the house, for Chrissake!!!!

Every day we are out there and every day you say, “I should borrow your husband to do my yard”   No, bitch. You have the asshole landscapers who mow your lawns at 8am on a Sunday morning. They are the shitheads who blow all the leaves from your property onto my lawn, which gets cleaned up BY ME!

Don’t you dare ever ask me why the neighbors are so ’standoffish’  I may have to tell the truth and tell you that it’s all you baby!!

You know that saying,  “Good fences make good neighbors”?  I wish I could build a fucking brick wall.

Not So Cordially,

Metalmom

My hair is full of paint chips.

My nose is full of plaster dust.

I have three dust masks, but forgot all about them.

I got mad and smoked a ciagrette.

It made me nauseous and I’m sorry I did it.

I sliced my finger with a razor knife.

Mutherfuckincocksuckindouchebaggetysonuvabitch.

There.

Bring on the weekend.

*It is hot as a motherfucker out there today, with a healthy dose of humid.  There is not a breeze to be found.  Every pore on my face must be open because the grease on my skin…!  Holy cheese and crackers!!!  I splashed my face with cool water and two minutes later, the oils were back.  I feel like the Mary Kay lady got ahold of me and caked that shit all over.  You know what I mean?  That feeling like you have two pounds of makeup on?  Yeah, that one.  Yuck and a half!!!

*It will continue to be hot here in my house because it is not after Memorial Day.  To Hubs,  this means that it’s not summer yet.  Screw that noise!  It was 86 degrees today and I have a tiny ‘personal furnace’ named Bandit that wants to sit ascloseaspossible to Mama! I want my AC and I want it NOW!!!

In case you can’t read it, beneath “It’s Fucking Hot” it says “Time to Crank the AC”……I concur!

*Still bitching about the heat and humidity…..My hair is frizzy. In my attempt to keep the frizz down to a minimum, I used some of this product and that other product and my hair felt  like paper and not hair.  Besides that, my scalp itched. So I showered, in order to cool off and wash the disgustery out of my hair.  Now my hair looks like……actually, it looks like a doll I had as a kid…..AFTER I brushed out all the pretty curls.

*About the only thing Hubs is bitching about is that he gets no sex.  It is easily remedied……GIMME THE MUTHAFUCKIN AC!!! 

*And the hot flashes?   Bitch, please!  Don’t get me started…….!

He told me that he was leaving early. He told me that he wouldn’t be home until after five o’clock. He told me that I would have the whole day to myself.

He lied.

Hubs had a class on updated electrical codes. He left before seven am. I was still asleep as he kissed me goodbye and left the house. I was so happy. After a night of fitful sleep, I was glad that I had no plans, no reason to get up before I was good and ready.

I slept in until ten. I grabbed a cup of coffee and a boiled egg and went back to the bedroom, where I did some internet surfing and tv watching. Finally, I was ready to get up and get going. I took out clothes and lay them on my bed but suddenly realized that I had the perfect opportunity to really get some shit done around here. When Hubs is around, he cramps my style. I get nothing done. But with him being gone all day….. oh, what to do, what to do?

I decided that since Son2 didn’t have to work tonight, it would be nice if he could watch the baseball game in a clean room for a change. This would entail vacuuming and moving some stuff around….and sweating. Instead of dressing in clean clothes, I grabbed the dirty stuff from yesterday. I figured that since I was the only one here, no one would care. Then when I was finished, I would shower and change into clean stuff later.

Ahhh…..a plan…

I took the vacuum upstairs and cleaned. I dusted the table and television. I folded his clothes and hung stuff in his closet. It looked good already. The last thing was the floor. I vacuumed the room, then took the hose and ran it down the corners around the floorboards. I reached up and got the spider webs that were forming in the corners. I stopped to move the table over and heard a commotion downstairs. The dog was greeting someone.

“It can’t be that late yet!  Babygirl must have gotten home from school early!”  I thought. “Hello!!”  I called out.

Imagine my surprise when I heard Hubs’ voice answer.

It was a four hour class- not eight hours as he had thought. He was home and it was only one o’clock.  I quickly finished the room and brought the vacuum back downstairs.

My face was red with exertion. I was soaked with sweat. Between the heat and the work, my hair was in a frizzy mess.  In my haste to get moving this morning, I forgot the deodorant. I smelled as good as I looked.

“Oh my God! Why didn’t you call??? I could have at least showered before you got home!!  I’m disgusting!”

He kissed me. “Mmm salty. You’re so cute when you hate me.”

How can I argue with that?

To me she was a job, a few extra bucks, some company during the day.

To mom, she is a precious babe, who needs to be shielded from knowing all the sordid details of her dad and his family.

To dad, she is a link to mom, a pawn in a vicious game that involves innocent kids and not-so-innocent adults.

I went to pick up Mack and found her leaving the school with her Grandmom. I grabbed my cell phone and confronted the woman who was clutching the little girl tightly. Trying hard to stay calm, I called Mom , but got no answer. She was still busy at the courthouse, filing papers and dealing with her lawyer. Grandmom tells me that the custody has changed. My services are no longer needed as she will be taking Mack home with her.

Oh fuck no you are not.

I refused to relinquish my right to that poor girl. “You may not walk off this school property with that kid until I have spoken to her mom. I will call 9-1-1 and also tell the school what you are doing unless you can show me, in writing, what rights you have.”

She couldn’t produce a thing.

Mackenzie-bright child that she is- suggested that Grandmom drive me home. “Then you can see where Miss Chris lives!”  Oh yes. I quickly jumped on the idea and also mentioned that in the meantime we would try to reach Mack’s mom. Maybe  Grandmom would leave Mack with me and once she knew where I lived, she would agree to pick her up if indeed the custody agreement was in her favor.

Finally Mom called me. Yes, unfortunately, the custody agreement is changed but it won’t go into effect until Friday. Mack stays with me. Grandmom was not happy….not one bit.  She dropped us off at my house. ” I hope you understand the position that I am in.” I said. “I simply have to follow the letter of the law. My ass is on the line here.”

“I understand” she said and she smiled. It was a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. I was an accomplice of the enemy.

Mackenzie wanted to leave with Grandmom, and when denied, she cried her eyes out for the second time in a day.

Mom came to get Mack a few hours later and we had a chance to talk. The child was asleep on my couch, having sobbed herself to sleep. Mom told me the whole story. It involved violence and restraining orders. It involved a woman who had worked for several lawyers and knew many judges personally. It involved a man who not only had many run-ins with the law, but was also friendly with others in law enforcement. It  involved a young mother without the money, resources and connections that the opposing side had. Even with police reports and photographic evidence of violence that occurred when kids were in the house, the judge ignored the pleas and is allowing Grandmom to take Mack to and from school again. Dad  is allowed to have Mack on the weekends when he will party it up and leave the child with Grandmom.  Mom is allowed to cry bitter tears of frustration at a system corrupted by who you do and do not know.

And Mack is allowed to fall through the cracks…. along with her younger brother and sister. She has already learned to tell her mom that if she can’t have her own way, she will go live with Dad or Grandmom.

I may have lost a job, but this child has lost so much more.

Earlier I sat down to write and I thought “Nothing post worthy seems to be happening lately.”  It’s true. It’s been very quiet and mostly SSDD, y’know?  Until, that is, this afternoon.

Hubs came in after work and threw his clipboard on the table.  “Look up DELAWARE VALLEY GUTTERS and find me a number!”  (oh yes, friends. I am naming names)

I closed up my game of solitaire and found what the mister was looking for. His eyes were deep blue. Like a mood ring, his hazel eyes change according to mood. Deep blue means someone’s getting fucked UP.

It seems that when he went into the Wawa, someone from DELAWARE VALLEY GUTTERS watched the door and made sure Hubs was busy while his buddy went into our work van,  and took a cordless drill, it’s charger and not one, but two rechargeable batteries. A customer came in and recognized Hubs as a regular. “Dude! You don’t know that guy do you? He’s taking something outta your truck!” Hubs ran out, but was too late to stop the chickenshit. Two employees also saw what had gone down. Hubs was too pissed off and wanted to handle this ‘himself’.

After I gave him the number, he called DELAWARE VALLEY GUTTERS and got the boss on the line. This company is practically around the corner from our house. Hubs told him what happened. This guy tried to tell him that his employee must have “mistaken our truck for his.”  Bitch please! Our trucks don’t look that bad!  Besides, the company name was printed on the side in huge lettering. How do you think Hubs found out who did it? Hubs told him that if his ‘drug-addled’ employee would go back to the store and return the items, we could just forget that the whole thing ever happened. The boss said okay.  (Can I just say that I am sooo proud of Hubs for not only using the phrase “drug-addled” but also for using it right!)

After a few calls back and forth (at first the employee denied it, and then he tried to be confused about where he was supposed to return the stuff) Hubs and the guy finally met at the store. The kid got out of his vehicle and brought the stuff to Hubs. The first thing he said was “Dude, I’m no thief”.  Hubs went apoplectic. “You little shit! That’s exactly what the fuck you are! Or would  you prefer to tell the police that you were only borrowing my shit? Let’s see what they would call it!”

Hubs said the kid almost started crying. I know Hubs and he is the type of guy that doesn’t just take one swing. He would have put a hurt on the kid. He shook his head in disgust and told the kid to get the fuck away from him before he changed his mind and hit him. He then called back the boss of DELAWARE VALLEY GUTTERS and told him that if he found that anything else was missing from the van, the cops would be showing up to collect it.

Can you believe that the kid isn’t going to be fired? His boss said that he’ll “make sure this kid gets a good talking to.”  After all, Hubs got his stuff back and “no harm/ no foul, right?”  Hubs said that taking this any further will cause him to lose his own time and earnings. It just galls me that this kid actually said that he was “no thief”

You are a thief, punk. Own it if you’re gonna do it.

Is it too much to ask for an RSVP?

 I was only having a candle demonstration. It was a favor to Shenanigan. She would get extra party points if someone agreed to book at her party. Besides that, the girl from PartyLites was new. Shenanigan’s party was her first. So I volunteered to have a party.

Twice snow has forced a cancellation. Once it was just enough to wet the streets, but because the temperatures were so low, the streets froze. The other time, the cities were closed. This time, finally, the weather has cooperated.

One thing remained the same….no one knows what RSVP means.

This really pisses me off. It’s not a new thing. It’s happened before. If I wanted to call everyone on the day of the party for an answer, I wouldn’t have asked weeks ahead of time. I gave the date, hoping that they’d mark the calendar….way ahead of time….but no, suddenly, they all have plans. Don’t like demos? Fine. Just say so.

I don’t want to buy diet sodas for those that drink it. I don’t like it and if they don’t show, who gets to have it sitting around? Me.  I don’t want to make a big veggie tray or cheese and crackers because it will go to waste in my house.

I can’t imagine what it is like for someone throwing a wedding, or anniversary party. We will be throwing a graduation party for Babygirl and a 50th birthday party for Hubs. Both of these will involve lots of food and drinks. I swear to Jeebus, if you don’t RSVP, don’t show the fuck up at my door. I will suddenly not have enough food or drink for you….because YOU WERE UNEXPECTED!!!!

I am a cranky, miserable bitch. There I go, stating the obvious.

I am having a perfect storm of ‘bad’.  Not my husband, kids or friends. It’s me. Capital M. Capital E. I am constantly bitching at my poor Hubs. He knows something is wrong but is afraid to ask. We are so in tune to each other that he knows that I will bite his head off if he says “What’s wrong?”  He is being ever so sweet. He helps me clean the house. He helps with Bandit. He cooks me breakfast and orders dinner. But it doesn’t make me happy.

Babygirl has been so happy lately. We (she) is getting all of her FAFSA papers filed. She hasn’t argued with me. She has cleaned her room.(mostly) She helps with the laundry.She has chosen her roommate for next year and they are like long lost friends. It will be a good pairing.  But it doesn’t make me happy.

A major part of the problem is that the doctor has cut the dosage of my antidepressant in half. (“Let’s see how you make out with less of a dosage. Maybe we can wean you off of it.”) I learned my lesson about that. I would stop taking it every spring so that I could take something for my allergies. In the summer, I am out in the sunshine more, and therefore, I am happier. But as soon as September rolls around, I am depressed, and I have to ask the doctor to put me back on them. This is the first year I have stayed on them and I am very happy with the results that I have been having. I am humoring Dr. Asshat for the next week or so. Then he will have to humor ME.

Another part of the problem is that the pain in my back has worsened. This isn’t the first time it has happened after a series of shots. But it is the first time that I am in excruciating pain that keeps me in a constant cycle of sit/stand/walk every half hour or so. My pain meds are not working completely. I called his office today and we are in the process of getting me into the hospital for my neuralytic. This is the only thing that has made me happy.

I haven’t been thrilled with movies or music. This is highly unusual for me. I had been writing and now I look at the page and it takes too much effort for me to reread and find my place again. I log onto Facebook and aside from a comment here or there, I don’t even want to hang out there. This has not gone unnoticed by my friends. I am Ms Crankypants. I have lost my funny. I am the cheerleader. The clown. The jokester. Now if anyone says anything to me, I have a very curt answer. I am cynical. Cold.

Now that I have filled this page with an explanation, it is obvious to me what my next step should be.

I don’t think I’ll wait a month for Dr Asshat. Fuck that.

I want ME back.

I hate when the bills come rolling in. Oh, yeah, we all do. We hate that they need to be paid, hate writing the checks or sending them online, whatever. They are a huge annoyance.

In our house, Hubs will say “gather up the bills and we can handle that tonight.”  This means taking each bill and totalling up the balances. When he comes home we decide which ones will get paid immediately and which ones will wait until next week. Then I write the checks and stuff the envelopes (because the internet cannot be trusted with the information needed to pay the bills. ‘Big Brother’ and all that..)

This month we – and by ‘we’ I mean ‘I’ – are dealing with the billing company used by our back doctor. When we go to his office, we have an option of paying the co-pay or being billed for it. The next time Hubs wants to be billed? I will punch his junk. Seriously.

In January, we went into the office and were told that we owed a balance. So we paid that balance and the co-pay. That’s that, right? Nope. Then we get a bill for $50.00 (The old balance) We told them we paid it. “Oh, okay. I see that. Ignore this bill”  Then, we get a new bill.  Hubs owes $40.00 and I owe $10.00. Hmmm….So I call the doctor’s office. The woman is pissed off by the incompetance of the billing company and she goes through this all the time.  Yes, we paid. If billing has a problem, tell them to call the office.

Big sigh. Finally it’s finished.

I get a call from the billing department. Seems that we owed something from 2009. When we paid in the office, they used it for the back balance. Now we owe co-pay for the January visit.  Fucking $80.00.  I should have just paid the $10 and $40. I understand the billing. She explained it over and over until I ‘got it’ .  Now I have to explain it to Hubs. I don’t see this going well.

The doctor is in the process of finding a new company because shit like this is happening to more than a few patients.  What if I pay it and it is actually less or non-existent?  What if I ask why I haven’t been billed before now and then they look closely at the bill (as they did this time) and I find out that it is substantially more?

I loathe incompetance.  This is beyond a small mistake. It is happening to other people. When Hubs and I go in for the back injections, we are among the younger patients. How many of the older people are from the era that ‘billing is always correct’ ?  How many will pay it, no questions asked? How many of you double check the dates of the services you are provided?