Stuff, Things, Whatever

Another glorious waste of day with kids running in and out, running off so every time I thought I was getting a respite, one of the fuckers popped up like a damned jack in the box. I have really started “free ranging” the parenting thing more since Spook finally learned to ride her bike without training wheels. As long as she stays on our street down by her two friends houses, I monitor her every 10 minutes or so. That gives her freedom and me space. Of course, the parents down that way can’t handle hearing all their fussing and yelling so inevitably they come back my way. If they had any manners, I probably wouldn’t be phased much. But the sheer rudeness, laziness, and lack of gratitude of each of these children boggles me mind. I don’t buy that I’ve gotten old. I am not some old fashioned relic expecting the girls to wear dresses and white gloves to high tea or some shit.  But ffs, don’t ask for food ten times after being told politely NO. Don’t bring your own food then leave the trash in my yard for me to pick up. Don’t drag out all the toys then bolt and make me kid clean them up every time.

MANNERS.

I flipped my lid tonight when I went to mow the lawn during one of Spook’s “we’re all riding bikes down at Andrea’s” jaunts. I had to clean up an entire 30 gallon trash can full of wrappers, emptied water bottles, toys of hers they’d smashed, plates, bowls, things they’d hidden under her toy kitchen. I was furious. I have three trash cans right there and these lazy little brats can’t walk two steps to put trash where it belongs. No amount of preaching helps. I made Spook come home for the night, ran her friends off, and we cleaned the yard so I could finally mow it.

I was mortified to see the devil girls, in spite of me telling them NOT to dig in that spot, went ahead and dug up Abby and Arsenic’s grave and destroyed the markers and flowers there. And my kid just let them do it rather than come get me. She cares more what those little brats think than has respect for our beloved cats.  But,Morgue,she’s just a little kid.  Yeah. I was her age once, too, and I damn well wasn’t digging up my dead dog or letting anyone else do it because I KNEW BETTER. I wasn’t a damned sociopath like kids today are.

To her credit…she came home and helped clean up with minimal fuss. We had ice cream sundaes after  supper. I told her the next couple of days are gonna be friend free because if I don’t get a break, I am gonna lose my shit. I can just imagine what the neighbors think of me always hollering at the kids but..God, should anyone have to yell when you’ve told them NOT to dig up your dead pets? I get tired of being the bad guy when these people are raising semi feral children.

Other than the relief of my yard being picked up and mowed so the landlord/city won’t be bitching at me…I am feeling pretty fucking disgusted with life. Still no word from insurance on my ADD med. Had to spend money I didn’t have to spare to get the toilet fixed. (Yeah, yeah, make the landlord do it…He’s the fucker who let us sit three days with no furnace one winter so pardon me if I’d rather just do shit myself.)  My car insurance company bilked me for an extra thirty bucks I didn’t have, some sort of penalty for starting the policy on the Pontiac two months ago then switching to another car. IDK, car insurance is a big racket anyway, basing it on credit scores rather than whether you actually drive safely. I think we’re gonna have to hit the food bank (which I abhor doing) because all the unexpected expenses plus her being home for three meals every single day fucked with the way I had my food budget planned out. (Doesn’t help the brat is sneaking string cheese and lunch meat out the door for her little fiends.)

I have to remember to breathe. Life is hard. I got nothing on guys/gals overseas fighting the war. Or people with cancer. Or…

So easy to get sucked into the “my booboo is bigger than yours” game.

It all sucks. What sucks most for me is that the one thing I need to escape and be well…is the dysfunctional brain I can’t function without. Bad appendix? Yank it. Bad gallbladder? Yank it.  Brain sends wrong info? Sorry, you gotta keep it.

Anyway…For all my yappery I figured I should post pics of the Buick. I have named it Aubrey. A  nice non gender specific name. I don’t know why.

Buick0531162009-00backseatThe outside is rough but look at that interior! Gorgeous for a 1993 model!  Driving it just feels like…Me. Automotively speaking…I’m back in my own skin and soooo happy to be (even if dad still isn’t speaking to me nor is R who is pissed that I couldn’t afford to wait around for him to fix the Pontiac,whatever.)

SEE!!!! I love this car. I CAN say something positive!

Damn it, followers, get up off the floor, I didn’t mean to make anyone pass out!

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8 Responses to “Stuff, Things, Whatever”

  1. I love Aubrey…and the bit about Spook sneaking food to her little fiends.

  2. *thud!* uhhh, duuude, what just happened?? Glad you secured better transportation than the death trap. I’m down to one car and Mrs. M has that now, I’m busy praying she doesn’t panic about the bumps as my shocks are in serious need. It has other issues too, but hers first. Hers is in the shop. She’s getting a second opinion since she didn’t like the $1300 guess. I’m wondering if they’ll go higher or lower. And then my check engine light went off while on the way to work, yay.

  3. OMG I love the inside of that car! Bench seats!!!! That’s fucking awesome!

    I am so sick that those little brats dug up Arsenic and Abby’s graves. It strikes me that Spook is a follower and these kids are just taking advantage of that to the extreme. They know she will get into trouble for their own actions. It sounds like she needs to learn to assert herself with her friends and stop asserting herself so much with you. One day you are just going to have to grab those devil girls by the ears and drag them home. What a nightmare.

    • I do agree about those devil children. I know you don’t want confrontation, but you gotta draw the line for YOUR sanity and Spooks “friends” behavior. As Clint Eastwood would say: “Get off my lawn.”

  4. Who are you Ave what babe you find with black Morgue?! I don’t know who that little ray of sunshine is! I’m blinded! I love you! 😊
    If you don’t do something about those hellian children and Spooks lack of standing up for herself and respecting you as the law bringer, you’re gonna end up in the Rubber Ramada long term. And we DO NOT want to see that! No no no.

  5. no idea what to say about the little hellions and desecrating the graves except how disrespectful and sad. sorry. I’d have chased them home with a cleaver and ratted them out to their parents, but I’m not all that loveable.

    • I have given up talking to those parents. I went to the mom when the girls busted my kid’s bedroom door off the hinges and my dad had to fix it…And the mom was just like, “Huh..” then walked away like I wasn’t even there. Amazing you need a permit to catch fish but any asshat can raise kids.

      On Wed, Jun 8, 2016 at 10:22 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

  6. THUD! !!!!!! drop kicked those little grave robbers/diggers. Dammed! !! That’s some fucked up shit, parents starting em young in the funeral business? ??? smmfh

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