Disclaimer: This is not about anyone in particular nor is it the opinion of NBC, CBS, ABC or any other cable news network.
Let's begin: Someone came up with the term "Friend Collector" one day on Facebook. And it got me thinking. Ok, so it took me a couple of months to think about it but that's besides the point. I like the term and I think it's quite fitting in the setting of Facebook in particular. I mean do you all really think I know Billy Dean? I have never met the man but he is my friend on Facebook. Is he ever going to be my "friend". NO, he just wants me to buy his records. Which I will do friend or not. He has a hell of a voice. So, Why is he my friend? I mean I could delete him. Do you think he reads my posts? If he is then good for him. I can't imagine he would have the time but more power to yah Billy. Anyway, this really is not about Billy Dean. It's about Friendships.
Here's how I see it: It is better to have a handful of friends you can truly count on and confide in then to have a zillion who don't really give a damn. That's the truth! It might be my truth but it's mine. So, why do we collect all these people on Facebook? Do you really want them to know every little thing about you? Do you care? Do you edit your true self on your posts or are you yourself? That's the challenge! The challenge I have for you that is. How many of those friends on your Facebook page do you really care about? I know that is a scary and loaded question. You hate to hurt any one's feelings huh? Sure, you are not human if you don't feel a little bit bad that you really don't want that person as a friend on Facebook or in "real life". But wait..... Isn't Facebook "real" life? Hum? That's a good question. For some I think it is and for others I think it's a place to brag, boast, snicker, and like looking into someones windows are night- a way to see inside someones world you will NEVER be a part of. Hum? Got yah thinking huh? You know who you are.
Some people have a Facebook account to keep up with everyone else but they never post anything. They are the stand there at night and look in the window types. Some have a page to write about everything in the world that is happening to them. Good, bad, or basically who gives a crap kind of stuff. Then there are the folks that use it as a tool perhaps for work or to find that long lost love or old pal from school they have lost track of. Some just use it instead of email. It's easier to be "Live" so all your relatives can see inside your world right now without addressing the email to a zillion people.
However, what a lot of people forget is that Facebook is a tricky little tool. Much like Email. Perception! Let's talk about that for a minute. Ones perception of the way something is worded could mean a whole different thing to someone else. You have to be careful. Unless you don't care. Then fly at her. Write whatever you want and don't worry about how it comes across. I tend to do that. I am just saying it really boils down to ones perception of things sometimes. Unless you really know your so called "friend" as human beings, we tend to judge, overreact, get our feelings hurt, think the worst or in some rare cases find the good. You all know that person. The one that always has the glass half f-ing full. UGH! Coming from someone (me) who is a true pessimist (glass is pretty much empty people) I get annoyed with these folks. Doesn't mean I don't like them. I just wonder how they do it without medication. HA! This is where communication comes in. What? Aren't we communicating on Facebook with each other? What do you think? Or do you think? Yes and No. You can hear the inflection in someones words or see the smile or grimace on someones face when they are talking to you in person. It's hard to know on Facebook or email or even the phone in somecases. AND unless you have the balls to come right out and ask for clarification if you think something is being said that is hurtful to you, then it's your own damn fault if your feelings get hurt. How do you like that big ole shot of honesty? Not an easy pill to swallow is it? It's hard to be honest. Too much risk? Not really. If more people were honest with each other we would save a hell of a lot of time worrying about mindless crap. We are all guilty of it. Non-confrontational. Don't wanna rock the boat. You know who you are. It's ok to be honest and forthright. When did that change? Wouldn't you rather have your friend tell you the truth that you do have toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe or maybe those pants are not the best for your ass? I would! It might be hard to take the truth but you know they care and don't want you to look foolish. They want you to look your best and feel good about yourself because they like you. Afterall, you are their friend!
So, in closing I ask you to think about your collection of "Friends" you have on Facebook. How many of them do you really know or share a significant part of your life with. Does it matter? It's just a social networking site. It's not like it's your true feelings your posting about or is it? The next time you post a status- remember that all of those "friends" are reading it. Are you sure you want them to know that?
Oh and just so you know- I write a lot of BS on my Facebook page. But, if your my friend you already knew that. ;)
P.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
LIVE from Connor PRAIRIE!
Mr. Jim to Patti " I knew we had a connection". Yee Haw!
Got you all interested huh? Who is this "Mr. Jim" you say? Well, he was one of the Connor Prairie workers at the Apple Harvest thing we went to. What the hell was the name of that Apple thing we did? Oh well, it's not important. What is important is that upon arriving we were greeted by "Mr. Jim". An elder looking man with a side of "Queer eye for the straight Farmer". Over animated. However, I am sure that was part of the gig. Or was it? Who cares the guy was mildly entertaining at first. I say at first! Because as the event progressed well let's just say "Mr. Jim" was starting to win me over.
So, we sign up, get our name tags and head for the Tractor ride to the Apple Orchard. It's a step back in time as we cruise through the main parking lot of Connor Prairie for most of the journey. I am thinking to myself, "gawd, is this gay". We proceed down a muddy somewhat tree lined grass covered road to the "supposed" orchard. It's one fucking tree with a bunch of apples that have been seriously infested by some sort of bugs. The guy driving the tractor stops, gets off the rig and picks a few Apples. He walks all around the wagon we are sitting on (oh and there was no Hay on the wagon as advertised" and proceeds to shows us these crap apples. Surely, there must be more I think. He jumps back on the rig and he turns it back to the direction in which we came from. SERIOUSLY?! I look at my friend Michelle and tell her "I thought we were supposed to pick apples?" Michelle just looks at me and says I don't know. Now I turn to Megs and tell her "this is GAY." I paid 10 bucks to ride though the parking lot to an infested tree? What the fuck?! All I could think about is the long ass line at the Starbucks we tried to stop at before we headed to the prairie. It was a no go on the coffee. No time to wait in line. Much to my despair a couple of yuppie Mom's from Indy were happily sipping on their Non-Fat Soy Mocha Lattes as we bounced our way back on the "supposed" Hay Ride to the entrance to the "Prairie. I hate them I thought. Not really, hate is strong word but I hated that they had my fucking coffee. Because little did I know how much I was gonna need it later.
Time for the rest of the Apple Event. I keep looking at my watch. Where is the cider and the damn donuts at this place. I am dying over here. We head up a long flight of stairs. I offer to carry my preggo friend but I think she knew I was kidding. Of course that was before she tried to climb up into my arms. I'm KIDDING!!! So, we huffed and puffed our way up the stairs. I did, not the preggo friend. I thought, were the hell is the COFFEE in this place? We enter a room with tiny little tables and chairs. Perfectly, placed snacks adorn the tables for the Apple brats. I wonder to myself are these snacks made here? NOT- surprise!, it's apple juice out of a Meijer brand bottle of Apple Juice, a graham cracker from NO, Not even Keebler Elves but from a box and some tiny cup of Apple sauce. Surely, that apple sauce was made here on the prairie out of rotten infested apples. Nope, out of a Mott's bottle of Apple Sauce. What the hell? Ok, this thing is gay beyond gay. I am commited to this deal though and
"Mom Hater" seems to be enjoying it. HUH!? I know.... What is with that?
They gather the Apple brats on a colorful rug to enjoy a story about some Apple related thing. All I could think about was COFFEE and the bottles of wine I would be putting away later that evening. The lady telling the stories had the personality of a post at best. She was no doubt a school teacher at some point in her life and the wear and tear of teaching all those Brats all those years had taken a toll not only on her appearance but in her attitude. It was one little,two little, three little Apples she sang. Then a sort of Blah, blah, blah. I get it lady. I thought to myself. Lord help me if I ever end up having a job like this someday. I will take all the pills in my medicine cabinet. Or pray for the wicked witch from Snow White to feed me a poison apple. They move on to crafts, Apple rolling- let's not go there and a few more crafts. Snack time etc. Not in this particular order but I am bored with it just writing about it.
Then like a rain soaked day with a dark cloud filled sky, THE sun comes beaming out of the clouds. It's Mr. Jim!!!! He's gonna tell us a story and show us a dance. Oh shit I think. Could it get any fucking worse? The dance involves some taped country music with the phrase Yee Haw involved. I'm listening Mr. Jim I think to myself. Go on. WE all hold hands, I had to hold some little blue eyed doe girls hand name Lucy. A real living little doll this little girl. And I got stuck holding her Mom's hand too. Whatever, I will go along I thought. For Lucy's sake. HA! Mr. Jim proceeds to show us the steps to the dance. I LOVE IT! I proclaim in my head. This is right up my alley. Megs my dear friend stands off to the side with her daughter Grace who wanted no part of this dumb ass dance, cheering me on. Can't blaim the kid. She's smart! Megs eyes light up every time she gets to see me say Yee Haw. She knows I am in my element now. We do the dance a few times and "Mom Hater" takes to the middle of the circle alone. It's solo time. Not really but he's my kid and he's feeling the vibe too. You just gotta move. I egg him on. I tell Mr. Jim it's time for each one to breakout of the circle and do their thing. He laughs and tries to get "Mom Hater" back in the circle. Dammit, I thought. I wanted my own solo. Kill Joy I thought. I knew though that Mr. Jim really wanted to do the same. I saw him starting to add some extra foot moves and wiggles. He was feeling it too. "The connection".
WE say our good-byes to Mr. Jim as he bags up our crafts and pushes Connor Prairie on us for the millionth time. I know it's his job but after 2 1/2 hours we GET IT!!! They need the money and want you to join this place. Give me a "real" uninfested apple" "real handmade apple sauce" and you might have had me. In any case- there was no denying it. Even in his gay way WE had made a "connection". Mr. Jim and I. I would be back I thought. I want to do some more dancing!!! Yee Haw I proclaim! See you the next time Mr. Jim!
P.
Got you all interested huh? Who is this "Mr. Jim" you say? Well, he was one of the Connor Prairie workers at the Apple Harvest thing we went to. What the hell was the name of that Apple thing we did? Oh well, it's not important. What is important is that upon arriving we were greeted by "Mr. Jim". An elder looking man with a side of "Queer eye for the straight Farmer". Over animated. However, I am sure that was part of the gig. Or was it? Who cares the guy was mildly entertaining at first. I say at first! Because as the event progressed well let's just say "Mr. Jim" was starting to win me over.
So, we sign up, get our name tags and head for the Tractor ride to the Apple Orchard. It's a step back in time as we cruise through the main parking lot of Connor Prairie for most of the journey. I am thinking to myself, "gawd, is this gay". We proceed down a muddy somewhat tree lined grass covered road to the "supposed" orchard. It's one fucking tree with a bunch of apples that have been seriously infested by some sort of bugs. The guy driving the tractor stops, gets off the rig and picks a few Apples. He walks all around the wagon we are sitting on (oh and there was no Hay on the wagon as advertised" and proceeds to shows us these crap apples. Surely, there must be more I think. He jumps back on the rig and he turns it back to the direction in which we came from. SERIOUSLY?! I look at my friend Michelle and tell her "I thought we were supposed to pick apples?" Michelle just looks at me and says I don't know. Now I turn to Megs and tell her "this is GAY." I paid 10 bucks to ride though the parking lot to an infested tree? What the fuck?! All I could think about is the long ass line at the Starbucks we tried to stop at before we headed to the prairie. It was a no go on the coffee. No time to wait in line. Much to my despair a couple of yuppie Mom's from Indy were happily sipping on their Non-Fat Soy Mocha Lattes as we bounced our way back on the "supposed" Hay Ride to the entrance to the "Prairie. I hate them I thought. Not really, hate is strong word but I hated that they had my fucking coffee. Because little did I know how much I was gonna need it later.
Time for the rest of the Apple Event. I keep looking at my watch. Where is the cider and the damn donuts at this place. I am dying over here. We head up a long flight of stairs. I offer to carry my preggo friend but I think she knew I was kidding. Of course that was before she tried to climb up into my arms. I'm KIDDING!!! So, we huffed and puffed our way up the stairs. I did, not the preggo friend. I thought, were the hell is the COFFEE in this place? We enter a room with tiny little tables and chairs. Perfectly, placed snacks adorn the tables for the Apple brats. I wonder to myself are these snacks made here? NOT- surprise!, it's apple juice out of a Meijer brand bottle of Apple Juice, a graham cracker from NO, Not even Keebler Elves but from a box and some tiny cup of Apple sauce. Surely, that apple sauce was made here on the prairie out of rotten infested apples. Nope, out of a Mott's bottle of Apple Sauce. What the hell? Ok, this thing is gay beyond gay. I am commited to this deal though and
"Mom Hater" seems to be enjoying it. HUH!? I know.... What is with that?
They gather the Apple brats on a colorful rug to enjoy a story about some Apple related thing. All I could think about was COFFEE and the bottles of wine I would be putting away later that evening. The lady telling the stories had the personality of a post at best. She was no doubt a school teacher at some point in her life and the wear and tear of teaching all those Brats all those years had taken a toll not only on her appearance but in her attitude. It was one little,two little, three little Apples she sang. Then a sort of Blah, blah, blah. I get it lady. I thought to myself. Lord help me if I ever end up having a job like this someday. I will take all the pills in my medicine cabinet. Or pray for the wicked witch from Snow White to feed me a poison apple. They move on to crafts, Apple rolling- let's not go there and a few more crafts. Snack time etc. Not in this particular order but I am bored with it just writing about it.
Then like a rain soaked day with a dark cloud filled sky, THE sun comes beaming out of the clouds. It's Mr. Jim!!!! He's gonna tell us a story and show us a dance. Oh shit I think. Could it get any fucking worse? The dance involves some taped country music with the phrase Yee Haw involved. I'm listening Mr. Jim I think to myself. Go on. WE all hold hands, I had to hold some little blue eyed doe girls hand name Lucy. A real living little doll this little girl. And I got stuck holding her Mom's hand too. Whatever, I will go along I thought. For Lucy's sake. HA! Mr. Jim proceeds to show us the steps to the dance. I LOVE IT! I proclaim in my head. This is right up my alley. Megs my dear friend stands off to the side with her daughter Grace who wanted no part of this dumb ass dance, cheering me on. Can't blaim the kid. She's smart! Megs eyes light up every time she gets to see me say Yee Haw. She knows I am in my element now. We do the dance a few times and "Mom Hater" takes to the middle of the circle alone. It's solo time. Not really but he's my kid and he's feeling the vibe too. You just gotta move. I egg him on. I tell Mr. Jim it's time for each one to breakout of the circle and do their thing. He laughs and tries to get "Mom Hater" back in the circle. Dammit, I thought. I wanted my own solo. Kill Joy I thought. I knew though that Mr. Jim really wanted to do the same. I saw him starting to add some extra foot moves and wiggles. He was feeling it too. "The connection".
WE say our good-byes to Mr. Jim as he bags up our crafts and pushes Connor Prairie on us for the millionth time. I know it's his job but after 2 1/2 hours we GET IT!!! They need the money and want you to join this place. Give me a "real" uninfested apple" "real handmade apple sauce" and you might have had me. In any case- there was no denying it. Even in his gay way WE had made a "connection". Mr. Jim and I. I would be back I thought. I want to do some more dancing!!! Yee Haw I proclaim! See you the next time Mr. Jim!
P.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Tiki Chat with your lovely Hostess Psycho Patti
Tonight's episode... My Day!
Come on in. Sit down, relax. How's it going? Gosh, you all look great or is it just me? That looks great?! HA! It's a joke!!! I hope you don't mind my casual attire this evening. Monkey pajama pants make me feel like a little naughty cheeky monkey. I know what you are asking yourselves. Does she really have Monkey pajama pants and the answer is YES! I do have a shirt on too. You nasty little get your minds out of the gutter people. My shirt of choice this evening is "WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS"! I also have pair of white socks on. You happy? Now, you know I am fully clothed. Let's get to it.
So, I set my alarm for 7:45am this morning. My husband laughs at me last night when I told him I was getting up early. Hey.... 7:45am is EARLY for me. You people know this. Well, the alarm goes off and I hop out of bed much to my hubby's surprise. HA! Bite me Mister!
I have to admit I hated to end the dream I was having right before the alarm went off. I actually had two dreams last night. One involved my co-worker Renee and the other Dennis Leary. I bet you can guess which one I didn't want to end. No, sicko's not the one with Renee in it. The Leary dream...Oh man, TOMMY "Rescue Me". It's a 4-alarm fire in my pants pal. OK, I will move on. Even though I really want to talk about that dream.
So, I get dressed, I eat breakfast and as usual midway through the meal "Mom Hater" has to poop. Where's Daddy when you need him? He's Pooping too. CRAP me I say- no pun intended. HA. I head upstairs and help the little wonder of life out. Nearly gag and am unable to finish my breakfast.
Daddy has "Mom Hater" duty today and I wish I would have skipped breakfast and just headed to work. I swear I have wiped that kids ass more than I have wiped my own and that's a lot!
Next... I head to work. Arrive at work ready for my day. It's gonna be great I tell myself. But first... a little side trip to the High Street United Methodist Bake Sale. Hey... have you noticed that if you take the odist off of Methodist you have Meth Bake Sale! LOL!!! Gawd, I am cleaver! Anyhoo.. I buy some stuff I don't need and say hi to my peeps working the sale. Back to work! Nice Hooters Megs!!! LOL! She made OWL cookies. Seriously people!!!
Decide about 1pm it's time for lunch. But, not the usual crap lunch I have on working days. Power bar and a carton of milk from Walgreens. So, I grab Renee, not literally people, I grab Renee- my co-worker and we head to the bustling hub of the University Village of Ball State University. P L E A S E! It was dead as a door nail. Seriously, do we really live in a College Town? We decide on Scotty's. Scotty's has a 15-20 min wait. I am thinking a wait for what? To make it look like you are busy? I see empty tables. No worries.... I ask if we can sit at the bar. Sure, they tell me! So, we jump on our bar seats and order up! No, we did not drink our lunch but I will not lie. It was damn tempting! We were in and out of Scotty's in 45 mins. Awesome! BBQ chicken ranch salads with a side of Deep fried Pickles. Renee reminds me it's Friday and there are no diets on Friday's. OKAY! I like that! I mean we already blow it with those cinnamon rolls from the METH bake sale. Who's counting points at this point in the game.
Back to work.... Deal with morons (insurance companies) talk to Renee, diagnose a few patients on my own and tell Renee to write the report with "MY" findings just for the hell of it. LMAO!!! Oh man... Good times!!
Phone call mid-afternoon- It's Jimbo and "Mom Hater". Found the Scooby Doo costume and it was mis-priced. AWESOME!!! Jim gets the deal. JP gets to be Scooby. Jim ask's me if I want to do something tonight. I say, "did you get a babysitter"? He laughs. No, he wants to know if I want to go to Hamilton Town Center for dinner at Red Robin. I know there has to be more to this deal. Sure enough... He wants to buy a new driver for his golf game tomorrow. (side note- Hey Jim, that new driver ain't gonna help the game pal) So, off we go around 6:15pm. Get there and he spends an hour trying out Super Shark head driver,Big as your Momma's ass Driver, Seriously if you can't hit the ball with this "Big ASS" driver you better give up the game driver. "Mom Hater and myself take off and walk the mall while Jim plays with his balls (HA) I mean clubs for an hour. "Mom hater" and myself check out the Dog bakery in the mall. There is a couple in there with a Wimerwama dama lama dog of some sort. "Mom hater" is taken with the pooch immediately. The couple tells us the dog is very friendly. I ask if it is a puppy. It's quite scrawny. They say No that he is 1 1/2 years but that particular breed takes a while to fill out. I am thinking he looks like he is from Ethiopia. Feed that Mutt I say to myself. The couple turns to leave and says "come on Forrest". I stop and think do they mean "Mom Hater?", OH, I get it. It's the Dogs name. How classic is that. I tell them "Hey, that is what I call my son." "But for other reasons." They laugh and move on. No wonder the damn dog was so thin. It just kept running and running and running and running and then he just stopped. LOL!!
OK, so back to Jim... No Driver for him. They go on sale next month. So being the bargain shopper he is (there is no way in hell I am letting him buy a $200 driver) he will return when the sale is on. Good choice Honey!
We move on to dinner. Red Robin. It's packed with Kids, Balloons and GAY waiters prancing around the tables like some freaky circus act. We take our seat. Our waiter is a cutie. He immediately starts to flirt with me. OK, so maybe that part was in my imagination but the guy was definitely after a "Big" tip. Hey, here's your tip- I am not impressed. Just get my damn drink. Oh I am kidding. The guy was great. Come to find out this was his second job. He has another job as well as 5 kids and he told us he was only 34. I said "man, you have been busy.". He cracks up and I can't believe I said that. Not really! It's something I would say and you all know that.
We end the night with a delightful drive home on I-69. NOT! It's raining and for some reason every big rig is on the road and nobody seems to know how the hell to drive in it. It's rain people! Not tacks falling from the sky. Stay in you fucking lanes! All is not wasted... We enjoy listening to "Mom Hater" serenade us to the country songs on the radio. I think he might know more words to songs than I do. Funny... He can't draw a smiley face, tell you his numbers in order or his alphabet but he sure as hell can sing a George Strait song and an Alan Jackson song I didn't even know he had ever heard. WHAT THE HELL?! I actually am quite proud of him. That's my boy! Country all the way!!! Hell yea, turn it up! Play something County Momma, Let's get our drink on. I love this kid even if he does hate me. It's all good.
"Mom hater" in bed. Me showered and relaxed! Back to the Monkey pajamas and writing in my blog for all to enjoy.
Tomorrow is another day.... It's off to the Prairie with "Mom Hater" and friends. Connor Prairie. A step back in time they say about that place. We are supposed to be going to an apple thing. Hay ride, Apples, Crafts. Should be interesting and if I know me and I do.... I will have a good story to tell after this adventure.
Sleep well friends and remember.... You are never too old to put on you Monkey Pajama's!
P.
Come on in. Sit down, relax. How's it going? Gosh, you all look great or is it just me? That looks great?! HA! It's a joke!!! I hope you don't mind my casual attire this evening. Monkey pajama pants make me feel like a little naughty cheeky monkey. I know what you are asking yourselves. Does she really have Monkey pajama pants and the answer is YES! I do have a shirt on too. You nasty little get your minds out of the gutter people. My shirt of choice this evening is "WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS"! I also have pair of white socks on. You happy? Now, you know I am fully clothed. Let's get to it.
So, I set my alarm for 7:45am this morning. My husband laughs at me last night when I told him I was getting up early. Hey.... 7:45am is EARLY for me. You people know this. Well, the alarm goes off and I hop out of bed much to my hubby's surprise. HA! Bite me Mister!
I have to admit I hated to end the dream I was having right before the alarm went off. I actually had two dreams last night. One involved my co-worker Renee and the other Dennis Leary. I bet you can guess which one I didn't want to end. No, sicko's not the one with Renee in it. The Leary dream...Oh man, TOMMY "Rescue Me". It's a 4-alarm fire in my pants pal. OK, I will move on. Even though I really want to talk about that dream.
So, I get dressed, I eat breakfast and as usual midway through the meal "Mom Hater" has to poop. Where's Daddy when you need him? He's Pooping too. CRAP me I say- no pun intended. HA. I head upstairs and help the little wonder of life out. Nearly gag and am unable to finish my breakfast.
Daddy has "Mom Hater" duty today and I wish I would have skipped breakfast and just headed to work. I swear I have wiped that kids ass more than I have wiped my own and that's a lot!
Next... I head to work. Arrive at work ready for my day. It's gonna be great I tell myself. But first... a little side trip to the High Street United Methodist Bake Sale. Hey... have you noticed that if you take the odist off of Methodist you have Meth Bake Sale! LOL!!! Gawd, I am cleaver! Anyhoo.. I buy some stuff I don't need and say hi to my peeps working the sale. Back to work! Nice Hooters Megs!!! LOL! She made OWL cookies. Seriously people!!!
Decide about 1pm it's time for lunch. But, not the usual crap lunch I have on working days. Power bar and a carton of milk from Walgreens. So, I grab Renee, not literally people, I grab Renee- my co-worker and we head to the bustling hub of the University Village of Ball State University. P L E A S E! It was dead as a door nail. Seriously, do we really live in a College Town? We decide on Scotty's. Scotty's has a 15-20 min wait. I am thinking a wait for what? To make it look like you are busy? I see empty tables. No worries.... I ask if we can sit at the bar. Sure, they tell me! So, we jump on our bar seats and order up! No, we did not drink our lunch but I will not lie. It was damn tempting! We were in and out of Scotty's in 45 mins. Awesome! BBQ chicken ranch salads with a side of Deep fried Pickles. Renee reminds me it's Friday and there are no diets on Friday's. OKAY! I like that! I mean we already blow it with those cinnamon rolls from the METH bake sale. Who's counting points at this point in the game.
Back to work.... Deal with morons (insurance companies) talk to Renee, diagnose a few patients on my own and tell Renee to write the report with "MY" findings just for the hell of it. LMAO!!! Oh man... Good times!!
Phone call mid-afternoon- It's Jimbo and "Mom Hater". Found the Scooby Doo costume and it was mis-priced. AWESOME!!! Jim gets the deal. JP gets to be Scooby. Jim ask's me if I want to do something tonight. I say, "did you get a babysitter"? He laughs. No, he wants to know if I want to go to Hamilton Town Center for dinner at Red Robin. I know there has to be more to this deal. Sure enough... He wants to buy a new driver for his golf game tomorrow. (side note- Hey Jim, that new driver ain't gonna help the game pal) So, off we go around 6:15pm. Get there and he spends an hour trying out Super Shark head driver,Big as your Momma's ass Driver, Seriously if you can't hit the ball with this "Big ASS" driver you better give up the game driver. "Mom Hater and myself take off and walk the mall while Jim plays with his balls (HA) I mean clubs for an hour. "Mom hater" and myself check out the Dog bakery in the mall. There is a couple in there with a Wimerwama dama lama dog of some sort. "Mom hater" is taken with the pooch immediately. The couple tells us the dog is very friendly. I ask if it is a puppy. It's quite scrawny. They say No that he is 1 1/2 years but that particular breed takes a while to fill out. I am thinking he looks like he is from Ethiopia. Feed that Mutt I say to myself. The couple turns to leave and says "come on Forrest". I stop and think do they mean "Mom Hater?", OH, I get it. It's the Dogs name. How classic is that. I tell them "Hey, that is what I call my son." "But for other reasons." They laugh and move on. No wonder the damn dog was so thin. It just kept running and running and running and running and then he just stopped. LOL!!
OK, so back to Jim... No Driver for him. They go on sale next month. So being the bargain shopper he is (there is no way in hell I am letting him buy a $200 driver) he will return when the sale is on. Good choice Honey!
We move on to dinner. Red Robin. It's packed with Kids, Balloons and GAY waiters prancing around the tables like some freaky circus act. We take our seat. Our waiter is a cutie. He immediately starts to flirt with me. OK, so maybe that part was in my imagination but the guy was definitely after a "Big" tip. Hey, here's your tip- I am not impressed. Just get my damn drink. Oh I am kidding. The guy was great. Come to find out this was his second job. He has another job as well as 5 kids and he told us he was only 34. I said "man, you have been busy.". He cracks up and I can't believe I said that. Not really! It's something I would say and you all know that.
We end the night with a delightful drive home on I-69. NOT! It's raining and for some reason every big rig is on the road and nobody seems to know how the hell to drive in it. It's rain people! Not tacks falling from the sky. Stay in you fucking lanes! All is not wasted... We enjoy listening to "Mom Hater" serenade us to the country songs on the radio. I think he might know more words to songs than I do. Funny... He can't draw a smiley face, tell you his numbers in order or his alphabet but he sure as hell can sing a George Strait song and an Alan Jackson song I didn't even know he had ever heard. WHAT THE HELL?! I actually am quite proud of him. That's my boy! Country all the way!!! Hell yea, turn it up! Play something County Momma, Let's get our drink on. I love this kid even if he does hate me. It's all good.
"Mom hater" in bed. Me showered and relaxed! Back to the Monkey pajamas and writing in my blog for all to enjoy.
Tomorrow is another day.... It's off to the Prairie with "Mom Hater" and friends. Connor Prairie. A step back in time they say about that place. We are supposed to be going to an apple thing. Hay ride, Apples, Crafts. Should be interesting and if I know me and I do.... I will have a good story to tell after this adventure.
Sleep well friends and remember.... You are never too old to put on you Monkey Pajama's!
P.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
LIVE from the TIKI ROOM
Hey Boys and Girls! It's time for another episode of "The Tiki Room"
Tonight's episode- HELL! Who goes and why?
Some say Hell is actually what we are living right here on Earth. Some say it's Deep down below the bowels of the earth. Haunted by a big horned Devil, in a big red chair just waiting for you to join him in his inferno. Flames licking at his feet. The song "HELL YEA" by Montgomery Gentry plays in the background. Lyrics include "Hell yea, turn it up, sounds good." But, the devils version is "Hell Yea, turn it up, the heat that is!
There's a special room in Hell. It's called the "Lava Room". Now, you have to be pretty darn special to get into that room. And I think you know who you are. The Lava Room is Hot alright. AND it's the place to be and be seen. You don't really have to be bad to go straight to the Lava room. You just have to have 'It". Much like natural talented performers. You hear people say that about Singers. They have "it". Something Special. So, if you have to go to Hell one would hope you are one of the ones with "it". Oh, don't get me wrong. It's plenty hot in the Lava Room but that doesn't matter. You are "it". You can handle any heat that anyone can throw at you. Fireballs- bring it. Explosions- Try me. Turn it up! Sounds good!
So who goes to Hell and Why? Hell if I know!
P.
Tonight's episode- HELL! Who goes and why?
Some say Hell is actually what we are living right here on Earth. Some say it's Deep down below the bowels of the earth. Haunted by a big horned Devil, in a big red chair just waiting for you to join him in his inferno. Flames licking at his feet. The song "HELL YEA" by Montgomery Gentry plays in the background. Lyrics include "Hell yea, turn it up, sounds good." But, the devils version is "Hell Yea, turn it up, the heat that is!
There's a special room in Hell. It's called the "Lava Room". Now, you have to be pretty darn special to get into that room. And I think you know who you are. The Lava Room is Hot alright. AND it's the place to be and be seen. You don't really have to be bad to go straight to the Lava room. You just have to have 'It". Much like natural talented performers. You hear people say that about Singers. They have "it". Something Special. So, if you have to go to Hell one would hope you are one of the ones with "it". Oh, don't get me wrong. It's plenty hot in the Lava Room but that doesn't matter. You are "it". You can handle any heat that anyone can throw at you. Fireballs- bring it. Explosions- Try me. Turn it up! Sounds good!
So who goes to Hell and Why? Hell if I know!
P.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
I hate you MOM!
I hate you Mom! Jp said it and it stopped me in my tracks. What are you 3 1/2? I say to him? Are you serious? Do you know what HATE means? Do you really want to say that? Do you know how much power I have? I hate you MOM?! WOW! I figured at some point in his life he would tell me he hated me. We all tell our parents that at one time or another. I never did it to their faces. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! My Dad would have smacked me to the other side of the world. Even if he thought he heard me mumble it under my breathe my life as I knew it would be over.
I hate you Mom. What did I do to deserve this? Does he really know what it means? When he says the lady driving slow in front of us on the road is a slow dumb ass I think he knows what that means. But, I hate you?! Time to regroup. Breathe I tell myself as my hand begins to move closer to his ASS. I stop. I ask him. Do you know what hate means? No he replies. Why do you hate me I ask? He smiles and starts to giggle. I feel my hand moving in his ass' direction again. I ask him again do you know what Hate means? NO Mommy I don't he replies. OK, then I tell him I NEVER want to hear it come out of your mouth again. OR ALL of you toys are gone, The Go-cart, Your Cocoa Puffs, Your Bike, you name it- GONE Kid. You got that I say to him? Yes Mommy he replies. I also tell him I want him to tell me he is sorry. So he does. You can tell he doesn't really give a shit. So, we move on.
I can't help but wonder what the hell I did to him to bring out such a horrible word. I guess it's just TESTING mode. Being a parent is hard. But, trying not to beat the living crap outta them is harder!
P.
I hate you Mom. What did I do to deserve this? Does he really know what it means? When he says the lady driving slow in front of us on the road is a slow dumb ass I think he knows what that means. But, I hate you?! Time to regroup. Breathe I tell myself as my hand begins to move closer to his ASS. I stop. I ask him. Do you know what hate means? No he replies. Why do you hate me I ask? He smiles and starts to giggle. I feel my hand moving in his ass' direction again. I ask him again do you know what Hate means? NO Mommy I don't he replies. OK, then I tell him I NEVER want to hear it come out of your mouth again. OR ALL of you toys are gone, The Go-cart, Your Cocoa Puffs, Your Bike, you name it- GONE Kid. You got that I say to him? Yes Mommy he replies. I also tell him I want him to tell me he is sorry. So he does. You can tell he doesn't really give a shit. So, we move on.
I can't help but wonder what the hell I did to him to bring out such a horrible word. I guess it's just TESTING mode. Being a parent is hard. But, trying not to beat the living crap outta them is harder!
P.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
The Prez & his speech
Just got done "speed reading" through the speech the Prez gave the rug rats today. Let me just say in theory he probably means well. My theory however is leave my kids the hell alone Prez. You can be successful with minimal education. You can be very successful. I am not by any means promoting kids to drop out of school but you can STILL be a successful person. It might take you a little longer but you can do it. I have a high school diploma. That's it! My brother has a high school diploma-that's it. My sister- well she married money but has a high school diploma. My Dad dropped out of school in 8th grade I believe. ALL of these people VERY successful. My Dad owned his own construction company, my brother owns his own restaurant for over 20 years and me-well I have done a lot of things but I am good at them regardless. Sure, if I had a college degree I probably would make more money and certainly would be more qualified to be an MD. But, the thing is most graduates don't even use the degree's they receive. They go off and do something else. Does that degree help them achieve success? Nope! They do it though hard work. My opinion of course. If I was not so damn lazy I would go back to college. But, that would be my choice.
So back to the Prez's speech. He says you should respect your teachers, do your homework, etc. I did not see one mention in this speech about respecting your PARENTS! I could have missed it in the fine print. But, I sure didn't anything mentioned about listening and or respecting your parents.
Kids have so much pressure on them to succeed as it is. We as a society have made that pressure mount. All these F-ing gifted programs. Aren't all kids GIFTED?! And who is the one to determine they are gifted? The teacher, the state in which we live in? Don't get me started. When I was growing up they didn't have this gifted crap. We just went to school, smoked candy cigarettes, played hide & seek until the street lights came on, had dinner at home at the table with the fam, and had FUN! OUTSIDE! When it rained we had FUN inside. No Chucky Cheese, no scheduled playdates. Really?! Our Mom's drank coffee and sat at the kitchen table talking about this and that. While us kids played. AND we did as we were told. I am not saying those above mentioned things are not fun or good for our kids but even that gets overwhelming. At least to me. But, then I am 43 and I don't have time for a lot of crap. HA! Maybe if I stayed in school I would have a higher crap tolerance. I doubt it.
So, let me close by saying. Love your kids! Spend time with them, talk to them, not at them, teach them to respect EVERYONE, let them see you have a glass of wine or two, let them see you cry, let them shake their booties to the beat of whatever music they like, give them chores to do, let them stay out until sun goes down. No street lights out here in the Country. But as the song says "Let them be Little." It all works out in the end.
P.
So back to the Prez's speech. He says you should respect your teachers, do your homework, etc. I did not see one mention in this speech about respecting your PARENTS! I could have missed it in the fine print. But, I sure didn't anything mentioned about listening and or respecting your parents.
Kids have so much pressure on them to succeed as it is. We as a society have made that pressure mount. All these F-ing gifted programs. Aren't all kids GIFTED?! And who is the one to determine they are gifted? The teacher, the state in which we live in? Don't get me started. When I was growing up they didn't have this gifted crap. We just went to school, smoked candy cigarettes, played hide & seek until the street lights came on, had dinner at home at the table with the fam, and had FUN! OUTSIDE! When it rained we had FUN inside. No Chucky Cheese, no scheduled playdates. Really?! Our Mom's drank coffee and sat at the kitchen table talking about this and that. While us kids played. AND we did as we were told. I am not saying those above mentioned things are not fun or good for our kids but even that gets overwhelming. At least to me. But, then I am 43 and I don't have time for a lot of crap. HA! Maybe if I stayed in school I would have a higher crap tolerance. I doubt it.
So, let me close by saying. Love your kids! Spend time with them, talk to them, not at them, teach them to respect EVERYONE, let them see you have a glass of wine or two, let them see you cry, let them shake their booties to the beat of whatever music they like, give them chores to do, let them stay out until sun goes down. No street lights out here in the Country. But as the song says "Let them be Little." It all works out in the end.
P.
Weight Gain & Weight Loss
I always find it funny when you see someone you have not seen in a while and sometimes they ask "hey, have you lost weight?". "You look great!" You reply why yes I have knowing full well that you weigh more than you did the last time you saw them. It's just something people say to make you feel good or is it? Why is the world obsessed with weight? Can't we just be Fat and Happy?! Why can't you walk up to a long lost friend and say "Hey, your Ass is huge and I am loving it!". Or "Damn, I wish I could look as huge as you do in those pants." " You look amazing!" No harm no foul. It's all good. Why is it that now a size 12 is a plus size. REALLY?! In fact, I believe there is a reality show on T.V. and all the PLUS size girls are a 12 or larger. You have to be at least a 12 to qualify as a contestant. Again,Really?!
I like to eat to much to be worried about all this crap. I don't care if you want to weigh 300lbs. If it makes you happy then let me grab you a twinkie. It's up to you. Ultimately, we should be trying to make ourselves happy. Who the hell cares what anyone else thinks right? Wrong! We do care and that is why we worry about our weight. At least Woman do. I can't speak for men although I would like to. HA! I am joking!
SO, all that being said I just started back on Weight Watchers. I just enjoyed an egg white omelet with a side of homemade salsa, a half of bagel with garlic hummus and 1 cup of milk. YUP, that was lunch. Sure, I could have had something better, maybe. I was hungry and it was easy and it filled me up. I come from a family of lard ass'. So weight has always been an issue in my family. My Mother maybe weighs 99 pounds soaking wet. Always has been thin. Thus why I think she always harped on my sis and I to watch our weight. So, here we are still watching it. Watching it pour on! Thanks Mom!
Bottom line if it makes YOU feel better to shed a few pounds then by all means do it. But, if you like yourself the way you are then I like you that way too.
Anyone got a piece of Pound cake?
P.
I like to eat to much to be worried about all this crap. I don't care if you want to weigh 300lbs. If it makes you happy then let me grab you a twinkie. It's up to you. Ultimately, we should be trying to make ourselves happy. Who the hell cares what anyone else thinks right? Wrong! We do care and that is why we worry about our weight. At least Woman do. I can't speak for men although I would like to. HA! I am joking!
SO, all that being said I just started back on Weight Watchers. I just enjoyed an egg white omelet with a side of homemade salsa, a half of bagel with garlic hummus and 1 cup of milk. YUP, that was lunch. Sure, I could have had something better, maybe. I was hungry and it was easy and it filled me up. I come from a family of lard ass'. So weight has always been an issue in my family. My Mother maybe weighs 99 pounds soaking wet. Always has been thin. Thus why I think she always harped on my sis and I to watch our weight. So, here we are still watching it. Watching it pour on! Thanks Mom!
Bottom line if it makes YOU feel better to shed a few pounds then by all means do it. But, if you like yourself the way you are then I like you that way too.
Anyone got a piece of Pound cake?
P.
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