If I Haven’t Been Driven Mad Yet, Please Standby

 

Have a seat.  I have so much to tell you. 

My office

Why, yes… feel free to examine our office’s red 1970s Edition of Encyclopedia Britannica.  The nude photos are delightful.  Delightful.  Can you say CONGO?  That lamp does not have a genie in it.  Been rubbing that motherfucker since 1983.  Noth.  ING.

Anyways, I’ve been terribly out of sync as of late.  Example:  I’ve been shopping at Warehouse Market to save cash lately, as the locusts babies that cometh from my womb can tear up some kitchen perishables.  Anywhenthefuckarethesekidsgonnagetjobs, I dress up for grocery store trips, because I was born in 1921 and like to maintain that level of formality.  No really, I just like for everyone to know that I’m better than them.  Too much? 

Anyway, I remarked , via text, to my homegirl Robin that Warehouse Market features some MAJOR weirdos.  Weird.  OOOOOzzzzz.  I’m waltzing through there with my shopping list on my Smartphone, thumbing my nose at everyone I see.   I’m all, “So So Fancy.  So Important.  So much better dressed that you-u-u-u.”    Okay.  You don’t even wanna know the boundaries of my fanciness, Friends!  Cuz there’s not any.

Got out to my vehicle to load my cash saving sundries and edibles, like a pimp.  ONLY to discover.  My pants were unzipped.  Possibly the whole grocery shopping experience.  Nothing says, I’m better than y’all then lettin’ the flies out. 

What. The Fuck?

Then.  Then.  Biggest story going on around The Circus.  The clowns were fighting and smashed the upstairs flat screen.  I wish that were a fucking joke, but alas it was a true occurrence.  They are still alive, but grounded just a little more than the law allows.  <----- sing that to the Dukes of Hazard. 

So the clowns’ Halloween has been cancelled.  This Ringmaster doesn’t fuck around, and frankly let’s just be honest---- they best be thanking the universe their dad didn’t kill them.  I suspect the thought did initially cross his mind.  He had the “scary dad” voice and lots of pacing going on (think caged Tiger).  I’ve been working them relentlessly after school and on weekends.  They started arguing yesterday for a minute, upon which reality came down upon their heads like a bad outbreak of Listeria. 

We’re back on the same page.  Today was Crazy Hair Day.  I made my kids participate.  We did not participate in Tuesday’s Tye-dye.  When Chubba (age 10, pictured above) was questioned by his teacher about not participating, he chose that exact moment to quote me “We don’t own tye-dye, because my mom says tye-dye is tacky.”  Yeah.  He said that.  To a woman WEARING TYE-DYE.  Soooooo everyone got their hair painted whether they wanted that shit or not.  Too bad Chubba didn’t choose to quote me with a “Mom says don’t throw SHIT in the house” when his brother threw the car at his head----- hitting the flat screen.  My words escaped him at that moment, I guess.

  Bukka, Fat Sucker, and Bunny the Bunny

Tim thinks Bukka (red shirt) looks like Jack LaLane.  I have to agree.  I’ve become my mother and nobody has had the good sense to alert me.  Nagging at my kids last night I shouted, “If I see one more person put their sticky fingers underneath this glass table, leaving food all on the underside, MY HEAD WILL EXPLODE.  My head will explode on your butts.”  <--- I quite possibly said “ass”

Bukka and Fat Sucker looked were silently shaking with laughter.  But seeeeeee.  This is where I’m not like my mother, I quickly realized and offered, “Go ahead.  Laugh.  That was a ridiculously odd threat.  Laugh.  I’m adult enough to realize when I’m talking like an idiot.” 

“Where were you going with that?” Chubba asked.

“As of late, where am I going with anything, for I am a fool,” I wanted to reply.