Back In The USSR

All week I have stared at the blank canvas that is the "new post" screen on Blogger and nothing has come out. I don't want to be clichéd and say I have writer's block, but I was just really lazy. And Fall TV has started back up. Why blog when you can Hulu? Stop looking at the screen with those judgmental eyes.

So, I am back and you are welcome. Hold the applause, please. Let me type.

It's pretty cold up in this classroom. I walked in and almost slammed right into Clown Face. She was fiddling with the AC panel, pushing random buttons. It's password protected, but she looked pretty confident she could fix it. I did an awkward dance around her and went to sit down. Then I saw it. She was wearing a white sheer blouse and a white lace bra underneath. The bra, however, was more boudoir than Bali. I'll just say it; you can see her (large) left areola and erect nipple. I couldn't look away. She rattles on about how cold it was in here and how they always try to freeze us out and I. Just. Stared.  

"Did you have a sweater or cardigan on over your, um blouse?" I ask her, while still continuing to stare. "Oh no, I just wore this because, you know, it's the Sun city. Es so hot," she said. "That's a lovely blouse, a bit sheer though," I say trying to remove the judgment from my voice. "Oh si, but that's in. You just have to know what kind of bra to wear," and she flips her Morticia Adams hair over her shoulder exposing the right one as well. There it is, that's the shot.

There was no way I was talking a picture of that. Not because it would have been too obvious, but because I don't need a picture. It is permanently burned into my head. You don't need to see that. Besides, she went and got a hoodie from her car. Thank you Jesus.

Mr. Bordertown came in, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "Go Seahawks!" Oh, it's so fucking funny. I thought about blogging the Monday Night Farce Football debacle. For those of you who are not aware, my Greenbay Packers were ROBBED Monday night by an incompetent, piece of shit replacement referee. Fuck him. Fuck the Seahawks. Fuck Pete Carroll. Fuck Russell Wilson. Fuck Golden Tate. AND FUCK ROGER GOODELL'S PATHETIC ASS. That's actually how the conversation pretty much went with Mr. Bordertown. Cursing and all. He was just as pissed about the call, but apparently, he has been looking forward to tonight so he could tease me about it. 

We're discussing trends in the court system. Fat Alberto, and I couldn't make this up if I tried, said he thinks the trends are "You know that the guys still wear suits, you know the suits, and the ladies have to wear like a girl suit." Y u so fucking dumb Fat Alberto? 

Somehow the conversation segwayed into local politics (doesn't it always?) and Clown Face is in the know. I can't take anything she says seriously because of the nipples, even though they're covered up. According to her though, "the most corruptests judges are from Sun City and they pollute all the other judges. Even the Federals." No, no they don't. Please stop talking. Mr. Bordertown and I tried to explain to explain to her that while Sun City is corrupt, this doesn't mean every city, state, or US District court is corrupt. But she is adamant that they have reach, even to "the mains court in Washington." OF COURSE I asked what the mains court was and if she meant Washington STATE or Washington DC. "Mija, DC is the state. Washington is the city, it's not a state." And yes, I replied.

Me: I thought that the STATE of Washington was right above Oregon. 

CF: No mija, the state is the department of C something. I think it's Columbia.

Me: The DISTRICT of Columbia?

CF: DEPARTMENT.

Me: So there is no Washington STATE and there IS a DEPARTMENT of Columbia.

CF: Si.

Me: Where's Seattle then?

CF: I don't know what that is.

Me: The city of Seattle. It’s in the North Western United States.

CF: Oh, well then it's in the one you said. Oregon or whatever.

Me: Please look at a map of the United States. Whenever you get a chance, but seriously, soon.

She doesn't get it. I see it on her face that she just doesn't get it. And she never explained what the "mains courts" were. I know she means Supreme Court of the United States, but I don't think she knows that she means SCOTUS. But what do you expect from a 40+ woman who wears sheer clothing because it's in? My brain weeps for these people.

Mr. Bordertown was having technical difficulties with the projector and announced that he would be unable to play a 20-minuet video that he felt would assist us in understanding the importance of the court system. Clown Face, ever the video enthusiast, bitched and moaned for longer than was polite about how we never get to watch "the movies in the class time." Mr. Bordertown explained to her that you don't "get to watch the movies in the work time" either, matching her whine with perfection.

9:30 rolled around sooner than we all realized and Mr. Bordertown told us to stay for a few, discuss our team assignments for week 4 and 5 and then we could bounce. Do people still say bounce? Fuck it, I say bounce. Anyway, I thought I must have been hearing him wrong because he said assignments. Plural. As in more than one. Turns out that I misread the syllabus. Next week, we have an individual paper, a team paper, and a team presentation. Then in week 5 we have another individual paper and another team paper. That's four fucking papers and a presentation. I (dramatically) laid my head down on my laptop bag and let out a groan that was louder than intended. Mr. Bordertown laughed and said, "Tiffany! Why are you complaining? You look defeated. Pffft. You got this. I expect and get great things from you.... and you're team." I smiled politely and tried not to scream out "THERE IS NO TEAM! I do all the fucking work because they are incompetent jackasses!"

Blond Sonja let out a "fuck this shit" and looked at Juarez Teenager Female as she let out this gripe, "I still have to write the papers from week 1, 2, and 3. Now I have TWO MORE? This fucking sucks." Yeah, she hasn't done any of her individual work. She fed Mr. Bordertown some bs excuse about her surgery she had (not lipo) and he said he would accept late work, but it will be severely docked. As of right now (thanks to the team papers I WROTE!) she has a 22.5/57. She also mentioned it would have been 23 out of 57 but "SOMEONE forgot to change the font on the team paper." I "mistakenly" left a paragraph in a different font than the rest of the paper last week and I guess I am never going to hear the end of it. Little do they know that every team paper I write, I leave in one or two errors, just enough to get docked a half point if the teacher notices, so it seems like the team actually had a hand in writing the paper. But does that .5 really fucking matter? According to Mr. Bordertown's late work policy and Blond Sonja's writing abilities, the highest point amount she will receive if she turned the papers in Monday (she says she is doing them this weekend) is 7 points...total, not per paper. So 29.5 out of 57 points. 51% is an F. Just in case the rest of you didn't know that. She'll need perfect scores for the rest of the class to even get a D. But is she worried? Nope.

I analyzed all of this in my head as she was complaining about the papers she had to write and I just got really, well, pissed. 

Me: You do know that I have already written FIVE papers, right?

BS: Well, yeah, but I still have to do those.

Me: No, you still have to do your INDIVIDUAL work. I did mine and the two team papers.

BS: Yeah, and now we have two more papers.

Me: No. WE have two more individual papers. I HAVE two more team papers and a presentation.

JTF: Oh yeah, that sucks.

Me: Seriously? I have written FIVE papers and still have FOUR more to go, plus a PowerPoint you'll butcher. Let's not complain about your individual workload.

BS: But this sucks.

Me: I'm leaving now.

Not once did one of them offer to contribute in any way to the group work. I know this is my entire fault. I made it clear from the beginning that I would do the team stuff because their idiots. I accept full responsibility for their selfishness. But to have the audacity to sit there and bitch about how much work you have to do and how I cost us .5 points on a paper, it's almost too much. Not to mention Blond Sonja is a full-time smoker now and if I sat there much longer I would have kilt a bitch. Yeah, kilt. 

Little Bug has a play date tomorrow with her birthplace twin (don't ask), so I might be able to knock out an outline, some references, and possibly a few paragraphs while they play. Or maybe they'll come in to my room again and Birthplace Twin will insist on using me as a pillow whilst watching Little Bug sing and dance. Chances are I will be playing counselor to her as well, because last time she was here, she told me all about how she hates herself and her tummy is fat. She's five. And poor Little Bug has to deal with the consequences of her insecure friend's words. All week I have been asking her what she loves about herself and telling her how kind, smart, funny, and beautiful she is. BTW, she loves that she eats her food, loves that she dances, loves that her kitties and dog are HER pets, loves that she has a good family, and my favorite: Loves that we are going to get a yellow dog and name it Jake like from Adventure Time. We are?

I have a few good tales to write about. But as you can see, I'll be pretty busy with writing that determines my future. See you soon.

You Haven't Done Nothin'

Well, fuck you too bitch. I walked into class tonight to find Typhoid Maria on her phone. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to be rude. She rattled off in Spanglish for another five minuets and hung up. I fully expected her typical fake hello, but nothing. Then her teammate walks in, the other one who I shall now call Jerry Curl, and she says, "Oh hello Jerry Curl! How are you?" He answers, they converse in Spanglish, shoot me a dirty look (her not him), and then stop talking. In walks Fat Alberto and Clown Face, same thing. First thing that came to mind was that thy must have seen my blog. Shit. But Clown Face, Fat Alberto, and Jerry Curl all said hi after they spoke with her. Clown Face actually carried on a conversation with me about my computer and how she wants to buy a Mac. Typhoid Maria scoffed and said "Well, if we could all afford such luxurious computers."

Okay, it isn't the blog. She's just being her usual bitchy self. Clown Face and I ignored her, well, I ignored her. Clown Face responded by telling her that she was being "Pavisè agressivo." No joke. I laughed, couldn't help it. Typhoid Maria scowled and whispered to Fat Alberto something about "esa puta es tan roja" which Google translate told me means "that bitch is so red." She's right, I am red. I'm pretty sure I got sun stroke yesterday. If she's lucky, I'll throw up on her in a bit. You don't just get red with sun stroke, you get nauseous too.

OMG. This bitch pulled out some Avon catalogues and handed them to me, Clown Face, and Juarez Teenager Female. She smiled and said "We have some really good makeup that covers redness." Clown Face told her no thank you, that she only wear luxurious brands. Damn you, you took my line! Juarez Teenager Female just smiled and said thank you. I handed it back to her and said that since she's so sick of me that turning this into a business relationship probably isn't a good idea. She said nothing. Clown Face really killed it with that line, I'm bummed now.

It's near 10 past and we haven't started. Not typical of Mr. Bordertown. I do get more time to listen to Typhoid Maria and Fat Alberto discuss how they're doing next week's assignment. Fat Alberto says that he can do the first bullet, TM can do the second and third, and Jerry Curl can do 4-7. I looked at the syllabus and the first bullet is a 100-word answer if I stretch it, 30 words knowing Fat Alberto's quality of work. Two and three will be roughly 300 based on TM's work, 4-7 is a minimum of 1,000 to cover everything and get a C. Not just my opinion, this is based on Mr. Bordertown's grading rubric. Fat Alberto says that since he puts everything together, he should do the least work. TM seems to agree. Poor Jerry Curl, he looks pissed. He told FA and TM that it should be equal, but FA said "You're the newest so you do more." He just sadly nodded.

We've been discussing the status of the Middle East for the past hour. It's been interesting to say the least. Fat Alberto's foreign policy is creative. He thinks "We should be like the ones who say no and stuff, you know, because they need to listen and stuff." I don't know what that means, but he's pretty confident it would work, and if Fat Alberto is confident in a plan, shouldn't we all be on board with it? Yeah, Mr. Bordertown didn't think so either.

Mr. B: Fat Alberto, do you think before you speak?
FA: (laughs) You know, yeah, but you know they don't listen and stuff, you know.
Mr. B: I think it's you who doesn't listen, you know?
FA: It's cause in the Middle Easts, they, you know, have the Islams and they...
Mr. B: (looks directly at me) Pointless, huh?

I laughed for far longer than was polite. I couldn't help it. No one else laughed because no one else got it, though Clown Face nervously giggled. I choose to believe she got it. Denial can make you feel less lonely sometimes.

After break, we began talking about components of the criminal justice system, to include Fat Alberto's profession, the security guard. Yes, security officers are part of law enforcement. Yes, they serve an invaluable purpose as police cannot do everything. Yes, in Texas they do have to meet state requirements. No, you are not a cop. Fat Alberto told us a tale about a friend of his who...I'll let his words tell you.

My friend, he's a security officer you know, and he was watching this park. You know like guarding? He saw these kids you know and he told them 'Hey kids, you know, it's past the hours of time you can be here you know' but they didn't listen and they pointed a gun about him you know. So he called the police, you know, but the cop came and he was a white guy and because he was white you know, he said he didn't believe him. The kids said the friend of mine was drinking and the white cop said 'I believe the kids you know.'

Okay, that story happened, but we weren't too sure if the EVENT happened. We asked (and by we I mean Mr. Bordertown and I) if he reported this to his supervisor or filed a formal complaint with Sun City PD. Okay I told him because the white cop did it to be a racist you know, but he said he had to wait for 15 days because that's what he knows. So then we asked why he had to wait 15 days. Oh you know because he said he had to wait in case they wanted to test him or something. 

Test him for what? Drugs and alcohol? Mr. Bordertown asked me to please explain to Fat Alberto why the officer's doubt of the security guard had nothing to do with race. I obliged gladly. I informed him that the officer's treatment of his buddy had nothing to do with race and everything to do with his badge coming from a Cracker Jack box. No it's metals. I then told him that his friend's failure to report the incident (especially if those kids really had a gun) caused it to wreak of bullshit. I know but he said you know. And the cop was white. Again with the white? Mr. Bordertown jumped in and told him that it really had nothing to do with race. The cop probably just thought the security guard was a tool. Clown Face replied with "Tools are useful." Damn girl, that 3 lbs of makeup really caused me to underestimate you.

It was another night of mostly stimulating conversation. I normally can type and talk, but when you're actually invested in the conversation, it's hard to do both. I will pick back up at the end of class.

Mr. Bordertown wanted to talk to us about our papers. He had told Hubby that he grades everyone else off what my grade is and I was flattered and sorta thought he was joking. He wasn't.

Mr. B: Remember guys, when I graded your papers last week, I left you comments and corrections. I hope you read them and didn't repeat those mistakes. I only gave out one 10 last week and there's good reason for that. It would serve you well to ask her...or him how to make that happen. Because some of you, well, it wasn't pretty.
FA: Oh you know, I saw the words in red and you know, they helped.
Mr. B: Well, make sure you're utilizing the tools that are available to you to improve your papers. Tiffany doesn't get perfect scores because she wings it. I mean, whoever got the 10. Make sure you are checking your spelling and grammar with spellcheck.
FA: Oh you know, I was gonna ask you. Is there a, you know, a thing that does a spellcheck like you said, you know?
*dead silence*
Tiffany: Um, yeah, there is. It's called "Spellcheck."
FA: Oh okay. Cause like, I thought they should make something like that, you know.
Tiffany: Well, "they" do. It's been around for a while. Spellcheck. Little box with "ABC" and a check mark. When the little red squiggly line shows up under a word, that means it's spelled wrong. When the squiggly line is green, it's a grammar mistake. Been around since, well, forever.
FA: Oh okay. I might check that out.
Mr. B: No, you WILL check that out.
FA: Oh si. You know, if it's on the writing thing.

Now, you know you're a fucking dumb ass when even Blond Sonja is laughing at you. Like, hardcore, can't catch your breath style laughing. Who doesn't know about spellcheck? Maybe it's just something found on luxurious computers.

I know this was supposed to be up last night, sorry? Little Bug has her BFF over for a play date and I'll probably post later as the convo I am overhearing is hysterical. See ya later!

Peaches and Cream

Monday already?! Fuck this noise. I want to go back to sleep! Even Little Bug is testy. She told me not to take her pictures. Que rude, right? Anyway, I have nothing for the must haves today. Want a time warp instead? Of course you do. Let me tell you a tale about a rotten vagina.

Her name was Tiny and she was a frienemy of mine. Younger than me (barely) and single, she and I fake bonded while I was pregnant and my husband was deployed. I had live in the dorms because my First Sgt kept dicking me over on when my married and pregnant self could move out and she lived down the way.

Did I mention this was an AF flashback? Picture everyone in BDUs and it should work better.

Back to it. Tiny was an active slut. Not knocking it, I dabbled in my single days, but she was out to set a world record. This isn't just word around the squadron stuff either. I'm talking from her lips to mine and God's ears. Her mouth lips. Get your minds out of the gutter.

Tiny and I always had an understanding. I would say nothing about her whoring as long as she stayed away from my guy friends. She could have my sloppy seconds, she could go after whomever made her lady parts tingle, just leave my friends alone. For a little while, she did.

Until that fateful night.

Remember my BFF minus the ovaries? Well, we still aren't talking. He has talked to Hubby and claims he knew nothing was wrong. That tells me he is an oblivious idiot or never got my texts or messages. Hmm. Anyway, before his current squeeze, he was on par with Tiny in the slut department. My pregnant belly served as his wing man more times than I am willing to admit, though not as many times as I served as DD. Everyone loves a pregnant girl, no need for a taxi.

He had been warned on several occasions, most of them sober, to stay away from Tiny. Not just because I didn't want to deal with the awkwardness if it didn't work out, but because
skank + man-skank= AIDS. He swore to me that nothing was going to happen. He lied.

One night, I refused to play DD or wing man or babysitter and I went to sleep. He went to the bar. So did Tiny. They came back to his dorm together. They tried to fuck. End of story.

Just kidding! You think I would leave it at that?! I'll tell you his side of the story first, as I heard it first. The next day, he and I met up after work. We usually ate dinner together at Chilli's or grilled outside. I think the plan was for Chilli's. He was such a good pregnancy friend. I never had to cook. Anyway, as I walked into his room, he didn't look well. He looked nauseated and shameful. Keep in mind, I had no idea about what had transpired the previous night, so I was concerned. I told him he didn't look well and asked if he was okay. He said he had to tell me something and that I should sit down.

Him: Something happened last night.
Me: Oh, you drank too much?
Him: Well, yeah, but that's not what I mean.
Me: Dude, what's wrong? You seriously look like someone shot your dog.
Him: I wish.
Me: Spill. Now.
Him: You're gonna be mad. Just know that. And save it until the end. And no judging. Well, until the end.
Me: I might be able to do that. Proceed.
Him: So I went to the bar last night. Had a good time. Hung out with some people. Brought Tiny home. Tried to fuck her. Couldn't do it. Her snatch was rotten. So, how are you today? Any morning sickness.

Read that last one as fast as you can. Now times it by 2 and that's how quickly he tried to get it out. Of course I made him explain. Apparently, she was DTF (down to fuck for those of you not hip to the lingo) and made it clear that he could have it. The more he drank (and the more he struck out with other ladies), the more he became open to the idea. I wasn't too mad. It was bound to happen.

They stumbled back to his dorm room and started foolin' around. She wanted to skip the foreplay and just go for it. So he did. Well he tried. She wasn't wet. Not a even a sprinkle. After a little bit of smashing and smacking, she suggested he warm it up a little. As he isn't a selfish man (his words), he obliged. He moved down to the nether region, opened his mouth, moved closer...and then stopped himself from throwing up.

According to him, it was quite possibly the most noxious smell imaginable. Imagine rotten cabbage, mix in a little sewage, add tuna, and you've got yourself the stink of Tiny's snatch. He gagged some more and promptly got up. He said he thought about lying and saying he was too drunk and was sick, but Texas pride wouldn't allow him to act like a pussy. Unfortunately, that was the only Texas quality he invoked. He told her that he couldn't have sex with her...because her vagina stank. She giggled and tried to play it off, but he repeated this fact and asked her to leave his room. Embarrassed as all get out, she gathered her things and left.

I wanted to smack him, wanted to scold him, wanted to high-five him for calling her out...but mostly, I wanted to be thinking about anything but Tiny's rotten puss. I had to leave. I couldn't eat dinner with him having just heard what I heard. In fact, I didn't eat (and keep anything down) for a few days. I had perma-morning sickness, but in this instance, it was the thought of her poon.

I went upstairs to my room and found Tiny writing a note on my door board. She looked upset (who wouldn't be?) and upon seeing me, she shrieked about how she was so glad to see me and how she needed to talk. And I didn't see this coming, how?!

Her tale started the same. Bar, boozing, propositioning him. At least she didn't try and put the luring on him. Props for that. But then it began to differ. He begged her to let him go down on her because he wasn't hard yet, whiskey dick and all. She normally doesn't like that sort of thing, but he was just so eager that she couldn't tell him no. That would be rude, right? So he goes down there and before he starts, he gets sick and almost throws up because he can't handle his liquor. She tried to see if he was okay, but he got mad at her for his not being able to get hard and then he shouted it out. He said "It's not my fucking fault you have a nasty ass pussy!" Naturally she was taken aback, but he just kept ranting about how her pussy smelled and told her to get the fuck out of his room. She left and wanted to come tell me immediately, but she knew how much I needed my sleep. So considerate, that girl.

I realize that the truth always lies somewhere in between both of these versions, but I've never found Tiny's words to be truthful. From what happened at work that day to her bra size, there was always something false there. And I know him, knew him I guess, and the boy can handle his liquor. And he would never shout at someone like that, he's a happy drunk, not an angry one. Like, ever. I could imagine his version of events in my mind, vividly, but her version seemed like a bad movie.

It took everything not to throw up on her. However, my nausea gave me an out. She excused herself and said she would check on me later, but if I could maybe talk to him...Yeah. Saw that one coming a mile away. I smiled and said that it really wasn't my place to talk to him about it. Shit flipped real quick. Why wouldn't I talk to him? Because I didn't want to. Aren't I supposed to be her best friend? That was news to me. What the fuck was my problem? At the moment, it was the overwhelming desire to puke. Was I just going to let him spread vicious lies about her? He wasn't saying anything. Didn't I know how much shit she could say about him? Um, this just got awkward-er.

I let her storm off and took a coma. It was lovely. Drama free sleepy-time is always great. I didn't even have one stinky vagina dream. Tiny and I, well our friendship never recovered. He never told anyone else about her skeezy snatch, I was only privy to that gem. But boy, did she run her mouth about what happened with him. Different versions to different people, but still a whole lot of shit came out of her mouth.

Later, she would give another friend of mine Gonorrhea. He knew it was her because he hadn't had unprotected sex with anyone else (and for quite sometime). He told her after he went to the doctor and she denied it. She said there was no way he got it from her because she had just gotten the all clear from her doctor. I know this to be a lie because I was at the doctor the same day she got her test results. She cried on my shoulder and begged me not to tell anyone. I didn't, until now. Whoops.

So that's the tale of a stinky vagina. Be repulsed. Be disgusted. As long as you were entertained, I'll be happy.

Good Man

"Yeah, after this class I move over to the human services part of the degree. It'll be good because now I won't have to be with all the same people. Some of us are going to different parts of the degree. Thank goodness because it's been a long time coming," said Typhoid Maria to Clown Face as I walked in class. She looked shocked and directly at me so I figured she was talking about me. Shit, I've had coffee, I'll play.

"Do you mean me?" I asked. She nervously laughed and said something in Spanish to Clown Face and then to me said, "Oh, no, I just meant, um, well, you're probably sick of all of us too..."

"Yes, I absolutely am. You're all idiots. I'll be surprised if you graduate, and if you do graduate, you'll never find a job,"I WANTED to say. Instead, I said, "Wow, I didn't realize what a catty, passive-aggressive bitch you are. Well, yes I did." Fat Alberto laughed, Clown Face said something in Spanish with a laugh, and Typhoid Maria just scowled. Come at me bitch.

I've had our new instructor before, though I don't think I have blogged about him. He is also Hubby's teacher at the law enforcement academy. He thinks highly of me according to Hubby and said he grades everyone elses papers off of mine. I'm flattered and had I known this before, I would have tried harder.

He's smaller than I remember. He also isn't wearing his glasses and I thought that maybe Hubby and I know two different men named the same thing. Oh, name. He needs a blog name. We can go with Mr. Bordertown. It works, I promise.

I haven't seen Clown Face since I-USA's class. Her makeup has gotten much worse. She looks like a stroke victim. I wish I could snap a picture, but I respect Mr. Bordertown too much to be that rude.

It should be a quick night, should be. But Fat Alberto thinks this is his opportunity to brag about being a security officer. Mr. Bordertown took this opportunity to talk about how big of a nutcase most security guards are. I LOL'd real world. Fat Alberto didn't get it. He just kept talking about how he thinks his "people" need to be carrying tasers.

I kind of feel bad for the rest of the class. Mr. Bordertown and I have been discussing trends in law enforcement as if the rest of the class doesn't exist. Fat Alberto and Clown Face are trying, but he just sort of ignores what they add. Bad for them, but great for me. I feel like my brain is getting some exercise. I needed this big time.

Most of break was spent talking football with him and a bit of local politics.

After break, we discussed issues plaguing law enforcement today, but it all ended up with the class discussing Sun City and its eternal corruption. Mr. Bordertown was privy to some shit that perks my interests something fierce. Unfortunately, he didn't play politics, he wasn't corruptible, and he called them on their shit. In this town, if you aren't with them, you're dead to them.

I recorded the class so I could blog about it later, and I will. Promise. Some good shit happened, but I am exhausted! Little Bug woke up at 4:41 AM and that means I was up at 4:41 AM after only having gone to sleep at 1 AM. I need to knock the fuck out. Updates tomorrow!

Have You Forgotten?

Today, I am worse than any car crash on I-10 as it winds through Sun City. I am a total wreck. I woke up with a smile on my face and a Little Bug snuggling up next to me (when does her new bed get here again?). And then it hit me. Before I looked at my phone, before I turned on the news, before anyone said anything to me, I remembered. 

11 years ago today, 19 piece of shit MUSLIM (because that's what they were, who they are, and why they did it) terrorists attempted to destroy our country. Attempted, because even though the Towers fell, even though they split open the Pentagon, even though that plane crashed in the field, they did not succeed. We are still America. We are STILL standing.

I was supposed to post a blog about BMT today as requested by Baby Sis, but that'll have to wait until next week. I didn't blog about September 11th last year, I just wanted to soak it all in, but this year I am plenty soaked. It's been 11 years since my mother woke me up to tell me we had been attacked. 11 years since I groggily asked what she was talking about and thought she meant someone had broken into the house. 11 years since I watched the smoke leave the North Tower and think that it had to be an accident, who would do this to US? 11 years since I watched in horror as the second plane stuck the South Tower  at 9:03 (6:03 my time) and know that it was NOT an accident.

I just remember how sad I was. As the flames and smoke continued to build and the bodies fell from the sky (yes, they aired that live), the Pentagon got hit. Sadness fell away and anger, unspeakable anger flowed through my body. It made it real for me. The WTC was horrific, but the Pentagon was an audacious challenge in my mind. "Here we are, we spit in the face of your military, your strength." I may have waited until I was 21, but I know in that moment, I joined the military. 

The images of people running from the scene, the smoke and ash covering everyone, the men and women in service dress running INTO the Pentagon to help, I can't remember it without tears falling. Everything stung. I felt so helpless and emotional, as I am sure everyone else across America did. I felt so far away in California, so small, and so raw. Every agonized expression on those poor people who were there was like a stab to my gut. 

And then they fell. And so did my tears, which I thought had run dry. It was one thing to see those planes hit, not okay by any means, but there was a moment of "Fuck you assholes. They're still standing!" But they didn't. They fell. I can't even describe the way I felt. I just know that everything ached and everything was changed.

As the day progressed and even the week, we learned who was responsible for this awful, cowardly attack. We watched as people searched for their loved ones, to include some joyous reunions and some devastating revelations of loss. We watch as first responders dug through the rubble day and night and saw everyone pause when they found someone alive or dead. Every time they found someone alive, I just imagined what must be going through the minds of the people who were missing someone. I felt so bad for the thousands upon thousands who would learn their loved one wasn't coming home. I still do. To everyone who lost someone, we will never forget. 

I remember the swell of pride in our nation and our first responders. Every flag that was flown caused a stirring in my heart. Every person lined up outside of a blood bank to donate made me cry. Our nation's Commander-in-Chief, President George W. Bush saying just the right things to rally this country. I've never been more proud to be an American. I have ALWAYS been proud of my country, ALWAYS (yeah, that's to you Mrs. Obama), but the days and weeks after September 11, 2001 might always be the proudest. Those bastards wanted to destroy us, they failed.

Today, I had to discuss 9/11 with Little Bug for the first time. I had the TV on and she wanted to know about the pictures of the fires and the people who were crying (and why Mommy was crying. This is what I said:

Me: 11 years ago on this day, very bad men called al-Qaeda crashed 4 planes into American buildings and they hurt alot of people, a lot of people died.

Little Bug: That's not nice at all.

Me: No, it wasn't. But America is fighting back. That's why Mommy and Daddy and Aunt Baby Sis all joined the Air Force. That's why Mr. R is in the Army. We fought back and we don't let the bad guys win.

Little Bug: Oh, that's nice. I'm glad America fights back.

Me: Me too baby.

Little Bug: But don't cry anymore Momma, your nose gets red.

I know when she's older, this is going to be more difficult to explain things like this, but I'm just glad it didn't scare her. I'm glad she could see those images (as awful as they are) and know that we fought back, and that it gives her peace. I hope the children of the victims of 9/11 have that peace some day.

Hug your babies, kiss your significant other, call up your momma and tell her you love her, hell, even shake a Fireman's hand (or a cop or a military member), but do something today. Even if it's small, just do it. Never forget what happened and never again take life for granted.

Should've Said No

I am perfectly aware that the title of this blog is a Taylor Swift song. I don't hate all of her music, I just think she's a crazy person.

Moving on. Today is a true Must Have Monday (finally)! Let's get to it, shall we?

I finally have convinced my Little Bug that she doesn't have to be a vampire for Halloween. She had this whole bit about how Halloween is supposed to be "scary Halloween" and since Hubby is going to be Michael Meyers, she had to be something scary. I wanted to kill HIM because I just want one more year of pretty princesses. We had a family chat (after weeks of her telling me she wants to be a princess and him a vampire) about it and she said "Halloween doesn't have to just be scary. I want to be Merida!" YES! I win! Um, I mean, it wasn't a competition....but I win! So here's the costume in all of it's awesomeness!

The whole set can be found HERE! Although, I would hate to think you copied my kid...lol 

 Little Bug also got a new bed...or is getting one. Her toddler bed was pretty kewl (say it like Cartman, just do it) and it matched all the other Tinkerbell shiz in her room. But she decided that jumping on the toddler bed was way better than sleeping on it. It died. Her room is too small for a double, at least if we want her to have play room, so I found this twin bed (on sale!) at Walmart.com:

It matches her dresser and got great reviews. <3 it!

This also means she needs a new bedding set. Found that too!

Target has this Circo Love n Nature Quilt set for only $69 and it totally matches the Pinterest crafts I made for her wall!

Oh wow, this got a little Little Bug centered. On to some shit you might really buy. I broke down and bought a Keurig. My life is forever changed. 

This is the B70 Platinum Brewing System. Mine came with 60 k-cups and a reusable one at Costco for just $149. You can also find it on Amazon for $159 in case Costco is out-of-stock.

Here are some of my fave K-cups:

Coconut Mocha with a little milk and sugar over ice is DEVINE!

Last one for the day, I can only "shop" so much before I have to pick Little Bug up from school. Besides, I get enough boxes from online stuff, I keep this up and it'll be every damn day! And this one is super cheap...

Abby over at My Yellow Sandbox featured this tip from Melissa at Lulu & Sweet Pea {a day in the life} and I am fairly positive my life has been changed. I will probably do a before and after post about it. 

All you do is mix 3 parts water and 1 part Apple Cider Vinegar, put it on a cotton round, and wipe your face. It's replaced my toner and my skin is feeling great and my redness and zits have started to go away and it's only been 2 days!

Okay peeps, I've got a BMT (Basic Military Training) Time warp for you tomorrow at the request of my Baby Sis. I've started it, but it is taking me FOREVER. Do you know how much hilarious shit goes down in six weeks with that many chicks? A. LOT. I told her I would do it though and that was almost two weeks ago...perhaps I should've said no...see, I did work it in there.

One More To Go

One more to go. One more to go. One more to....annoying much? Someone should tell Typhoid Maria. I think it's her mantra tonight. Fat Alberto interrupted her to whisper about my team and what they think our presentation will be about. Better than yours, that's what it's about.

Semper Fucking Idiot is decked out in a Dallas Cowboy's jersey and slicked back hair. He wore it because they won last night and he knows Baloo is a Giants fan. He is practically begging for Baloo to notice him and strike up some football talk.

His badge is right next to his cup. I couldn't get a shot without being HELLA obvious.

Baloo walked in (late at 6:10) and said, "Oh this guy! He just had to do it!" SFI is beaming from ear-to-ear. Did I call it or did I call it? In the words of Blond Sonja, "I fucking hate the PD."

Speaking of Blond Sonja, she isn't here yet. How the shit is our group supposed to go first if she isn't here? I delight in going first, it pisses everyone else off and sets the bar too high for them to reach. 

Oh shit, we be gettin' it crackin' quick tonight. Baloo pulled up the week 5 PowerPoint and is already clicking away. Tonight we are discussing organized crime and politics. He asked us about the conventions and if anyone has watched them. When I said that I have been, he asked if I found the speakers convincing. I said that I found the DNC speakers to be repetitive and beating a dead horse and gave specific examples. He immediately decided to counter by praising the Dems like he was sucking Bill Clinton's dick. Funny, because last week he was right-winging it up.

Now we are on to local politics and crime. It's going to be a long night. Sun City is the definition of corruption. Really, go on and Google this town. I'm not shocked about all the scandal, but people wonder why the rest of the nation (and Texas) looks down on us. So far, we have been through 6 slides that have had 5 stories about public corruption cases in El Paso. And of those 30 (we aren't done yet), 26 of them were in the last 24 months alone. 

Oy vey, this city is fucked up. 

Break cannot come soon enough. I have to pee and Blond Sonja arrived, plopped down next to me and smells like an ashtray. I wasn't aware she was a smoker, but I certainly am now. If I have to hear Baloo ramble on about how it is our patriotic duty to challenge our elected officials (I know that it is), I may scream. Your words are falling on deaf ears. No one in here (beside me) gives a shit. 

We spent most of the lunch break discussing idiots we have encountered in this city and in our law enforcement careers. As much as I detest Baloo, he has some good tales. 

Oh shit, presentation time! Team A is up first. The Deputy, Doppelganger Housewife, and Peircy Paula. On slide 2 (objectives) I could already tell they did it wrong. You're supposed to compare an organized crime group to a terrorist group. They are just comparing organized crime to terrorism. The slides themselves are terrible, red text on a black and white background with an Al Pacino picture. "The Middle Eastern's have back door crime," The Deputy said. He wasn't talking about sodomy but I laughed anyway. Also, Jimmy Carter was president in 1982 when that Iran hostage thingy went down. I wish I could interrupt and pwn him. Le Sigh. "The US-Mexican border goes for alotta miles and they get there stuff in." I feel so enlightened. PP is now talking and I had hope that it would get better. It hasn't.

Katniss had to leave early. She has a serious fever (I think it's West Nile) and Baloo said she would get full-credit as long as it's alright with us. Of course it is, but I am a little jealous she gets to miss the train-wreck happening in front of me. You know your presentation is garbage when the instructor has interrupted and corrected you several times.

We went. Bad ass mother fuckers we be. Baloo critiqued us anyway, not nearly as bad as Team A, but he added at the end that maybe we shouldn't use note cards. Maybe you shouldn't fuck with perfection. If Big Time Army told me to do it, I'm doing it. I know Baloo meant Blond Sonja and Juarez Teenager Female because he was looking directly at them and mimicking how they stood, but I think I'm going to "take offense for someone else" here. They did 1,000,000 times better than Team A, quit looking for something to dock them (or us) down on.

Team C stepped up to the plate. Again, wrong. Just wrong. Moobs, SFI, and the guy who wants to work for the "federala polices" make up this team. I will try very hard to not laugh. They are also comparing organized crime to terrorism, instead of specific groups like the syllabus and Baloo explained. I want to make the excuse that maybe they can't read and that's why they got it all wrong, but they're doing a damn good job of reading directly off of the paragraphs (taken directly from Wikipedia) on each slide. 

Too much. Shouldn't read. Please stop.

I actually downloaded the presentation grading matrix Baloo posted and have been grading everyone by it. Team A would get a D by the University's standards, Team C is a firm F. Not because I hate SFI, but because the matrix says so. He used the Aztecas as an example of a gang and said that gangs use the jails to smuggle...but Baloo interrupted (because he used to RUN the jail) and said, "Who is doing this?" SFI got all defensive and said, "No okay. I wasn't talking about a specific gang. I just said Aztecas because people know them." But, you were supposed to use a specific group. SFI, who was a Marine for 3 years during peacetime, is an expert on terrorist groups and their potential targets. He thinks they will go after....wait for it...it is sooooo good....Apple and Google. Not the websites, not hacking, but the actual locations of Apple, Inc and Google. Cuppertino is going to get hit, I heard it from Semper Fucking Idiot first. 

Holy balls. Team D (Fat Alberto, Typhoid Maria, and that other dude) actually picked two groups. MS13 and al-Qaeda. All of their "facts" are really bad and inaccurate, but they get points for trying. Fat Alberto, as he does EVERY TIME he presents, said, "You know, like Tiffany said..." I should get extra points for as many times as he has piggybacked off of me. He spoke at length about how al-Qaeda doesn't bribe people because it goes against the "terrors they do." Baloo asked him to clarify and he simply replied, "Yeah, it's true." 

Typhoid Maria is explaining how al-Qaeda works and she pulled a Fat Alberto. However, she said, "Juarez Teenager Female talked alot of stuff about al-Qaeda so I can skip that." She keeps saying "Hislam" instead of "Islam." I am trying so hard to not laugh. 

The Other Guy is explaining why MS13 uses the 13. He said with a nervous laugh, "Not it's not because of Michael Meyers." I had to. "Do you mean Jason Vorhees?" I said. "No," he replied, "esta es Michael Meyers from Friday the 13th." Do you know how hard it is to be the smartest person in the room? My brain hurts.

There was some more crap being spewed but I closed my Mac and tried my best to not fall asleep. I'm typing this last part from home (while watching VMA recaps). I hope you all had a wonderful day. See you tomorrow...maybe!

Typhoid Maria and Fat Alberto. You read those slides good now.

Peircy Paula asked me after class what I was doing. I said I wanted a pic of Baloo to show Hubby. I've lost my smoothness.

I Got Stoned and I Missed It

I had so many things I could have blogged about today. For starters, all the hoochie mamas at Little Bug's school today for the volunteer meeting. If I ever get so desperate that I find myself wanting to fit in with these women, I now know I just need to hit up Forever 21 and buy a 2 sizes too small tube top. I also had some DNC related quips, some local politics commentary, even a lovely review of the Oogie Love movie (based on the previews). But I have something I think you'll find more interesting.

My new teammate. My online film class is entering it's 4th week and Team E was hit with a shocker. Someone was going to be added to our three-man/woman wrecking crew. Remember Patrick? Of course you do. No, he isn't my new team member. But his female equivalent is. Her name is...wait for it...Patricia and she is just as stupid and rude as him. Here's the breakdown of BEFORE she was in our group.

It started last week really. She commented on my post (the same one that Patrick had) and said she agreed with me and then posted again and said that the movies were awful and needed a better storyline. Then this:

Hello mr. Ryan and class. I watched both Zombieland and Shaun of the Dead and I feel like the both fall into one existing genre. My reason why is because the two seems to be low budget films just to make money. For example, Woody Harrelson when have he starred in any good movie lately? And his supporting cast are bunch of no names. Shaun of the Dead is casted in the same mold as zombieland, both are low budget films that find themselves in the comedy and horror area of filmmaking. I see the genre as the same movie with different plots.


So of course I replied: (my responses will be in purple for the rest of the post)

Emma Stone, Jesse Eisenberg, Bill Murray, and Abigail Breslin are hardly "no-names". Jesse Eisenberg was nominated for an Oscar for The Social Network, as was Abigail Breslin for Little Miss Sunshine. Emma Stone was in The Help which got a ton of buzz and Bill Murray...well, he's a legend. Woody Harrelson was just in The Hunger Games with Jennifer Lawrence (another Oscar nominee), Friends With Benefits with Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis and The Messenger with Ben Foster (which I strongly recommend). 

That was followed with these three posts, back-to-back, as if she only meant to post one but couldn't decide which and posted all three. 


Hi Tiffany, I too find the Zombieland and Shaun of the Dead as horror and a comedy. I personally do not like neither of them because they are just dumb. But as the slogan goes "that's hollywood".

Didn't you just say they only fall into one genre?

Hi Tiffany I would equate a movie where the good guy son is held captive and the good guy only have until 12 noon to come up with the ransom money or his son will die. The clock is ticking and the good guy have to come up with the ransom money that he have in the bank. I would put this movie in the category of a horror movie. Would you? Remember the clock is ticking!!

But that typically isn't a horror movie. That would be suspense, action, thriller, even drama but not horror. Ransom with Mel Gibson is that premise and it isn't a horror movie. Look up the genre descriptions and I think you'll change your view on a whole lot of films. 

Hi Tiffany, the two films that you mentioned could use a better story line. These films too me are just simple surposed to be horror movies. To the producers to these two film, you could do better. Tiffany, next time discuss better movies.

I'm confused. The post before this one you said that the films are horror/comedy but now you're calling them just horror. I didn't mention the films, Mr. Ryan did and now we are all commenting on them. I respect your opinion on the films, but I'm just finding it hard to follow.

I think the movies are meant to be funny, like a parody of the genre. Much like the Scary Movie franchise. Maybe try watching them as a comedy. It might change your mind as to what they are supposed to be. Either way, I enjoyed them both and own them both. I'll be watching them again soon, as October is officially monster movie month...horror or comedy.

Keep in mind, my responses came much later and long after hers were posted rapid fire like. This wasn't a back and forth conversation by any means. She never replied to me. But she did comment on one of my teammate Mike's post about the movie It. She said she saw it in the theaters when she was a very young girl and it scared her so bad. Keep in mind, she is in her 40's. It came out in 1990 and was a TV mini-series originally shown on ABC. She says she is 42 right now, that means she was 20 when it came out. Not a "very young girl." I replied that I was not aware that It was ever in movie theaters. I also said that I was 6 when it came out and watched it on ABC before my parents caught me and turned it off. I then added that the version I had seen with Tim Curry must be a remake of whatever one she had seen in theaters, though there was no listing on IMDB.com for it, because the only version I know of came out when she was 20. No reply from her, but my Mike posted this photo as his reply:

He was asked to take it down by Steve, but the 3-5 minutes it was up made me giggle.

So then on Monday, Steve adds her to our team. He said he was aware this was unusual but if we could make her feel welcome, he would appreciate it. This was Mike's welcome to her:

Sorry about the pwn-age. You did get pwned though. Welcome to our group. Just do your part and spell things correctly and we will all get along.

Classy guy, that Mike. I think if we had a real life class, I would recruit him to my team. Anyway, I posted the three movies we would be using for our presentation. Mike chose last week and Gerald (the other guy) told me to choose because any movie he would pick "will probably suck." I picked Young Guns, Sixteen Candles, and Super-size Me from the list. A Western, a romance, and a documentary because, well, the assignment calls for a Western, a romance, and a documentary. Each member fills out a matrix that asks about each genre, turns them into me by Saturday morning, and then I turn in the presentation by Monday night. THIS WAS ALL EXPLAINED. Besides, she had been in another group and they had to do the same thing last week for a horror movie and a comedy...she would get it.

Nope. Didn't get it.

Hello, my name is Patricia Wilson I have been added to this team, I like the suggestion  I like the  selected choices please tell what you want me to do.

I just did. But I exercised patience and said:

Complete the matrix for each movie and submit it to the team forum by Saturday.

Still didn't take:

Hello, Ok I am not understunding clearly are these the movies that are selected and I need to locate the matrix for each movie can you explain what you are suggesting so I can complete it please.

Followed immediately with my response:

These are the movies: Young Guns, Sixteen Candles, and Super-size Me.

The matrix for each are located under the "Week 4 Materials" tab. Fill out the Western matrix for the Western, the romance matrix for the romance, and the documentary matrix for the documentary. Just like you should have done last week for the comedy and horror movies your last team picked.

Have them completed and turned in by Saturday (morning preferred) and I will compile the answers for the team power point.

We all understand the assignment by now right? Not Patricia!

Hello, I found the matrix now are these the movies that are selected if so I can fill that out for three movie am I correct?

I had to stop replying. I still don't actually know if she understands. But I did realize I can look in the Team C forum (her old group) and I checked out the communication between her and her old team. She appointed herself team leader, wrote a charter without asking for anyone's schedule, insisted all work be turned in no later than when she leaves work on Thursday, and then when the other's said that they would turn it in on Sunday (it's due Monday 11:59 pm), she submitted an assignment on Friday without anyone elses name on it and told Mr. Ryan they all refused to help. Then, when the other's called her ass out (it was hilarious) she called them all "slackers and low-lifes." 

Hopefully Patrick Patricia turns her shit in on time. I would hate to omit her from the assignment...though, if I do, you can bet I am going to let her old team know!

Class tonight and it's the final one with Baloo! YAY!

The Way The Whole Thing Ends

No, not the end of my blog, just the end of the layout. I haven't liked how my blog looks for quite some time. I need to spruce it up. I've been looking for a custom blog designer for a while, but everything is too kitchy. I need something that is cleaner, but still me. Hopefully, I find that soon...lol.

I also want to add a page or two. I need to finalize the photo-a-day list for October, yes, October. All the freaks come out in October. Freaks are required for this contest! And once a week starting next week, I will be featuring a pinterest craft that I will be making (and should have made a long ago). Not in Pintester fashion, I really want to do a good job...lol. I'm starting next week with Scrabble tile coasters. They should be amazing!

Okay, on to the time warp....I'm not doing one today. DirecTV is being installed and shit is getting crazy. I'll be back tomorrow.

The Sound of Silence

Today is Labor Day, so to all of you working American citizens (and ones who may not be working, but have before) Happy Labor Day. Enjoy the time off (if you get it) or the holiday pay you receive.

For those of you military members and their wives who have the ass-galling nerve to clog up my FB news feed with bitches, gripes, and complaints about how the military are not appreciated enough on Labor Day, I say suck a dick. Too harsh? Let me elaborate.

I am a veteran. My husband is a veteran. My father is a veteran, as are some of my cousins and uncles. My baby sis is still serving and some of my dear friends are as well. Do I thank them (or myself) every single day for their service? No, because they don't (and we didn't) do it for the recognition. We did it because it was a full-time job, we would get college paid for, we needed health-care, and yes, because we love our country, but let's not make this more than it is. We joined a volunteer military (except my Pops) and though we had to sacrifice time with our loved ones, we got paid to do it. Sure, military pay isn't the best, but what other job pays for your health care, house, utilities, dependents and even your food? Add all of that up and it's much more than a civilian gets.

I digress. There is a day to honor the veterans of the American Armed Forces. It's called Veteran's Day. You get a free meal at practically every restaurant in town, people shake your hand and tell you thank you, and random acquaintances tell you on FB how proud they are of you. I can't stand it, personally. I know people want to seem like they appreciate the military but it feels so flat and forced. I didn't join for free shit and praise. The only time I do not cringe when someone says "Thank you for your service" is when it comes from older vets. I'm talking 'Nam and prior to that. I do my best not to cry as I return the thank you.

It seems that my generation of vets forgets that Veteran's Day exists. Every holiday, my news feed is now littered with some fly boy or squid or jar head (rarely though) or grunt bitching about how they aren't appreciated on Easter, Thanksgiving, Valentines Day, etc. I had ONE Thanksgiving off my entire enlistment, ONE Christmas, NO Easters...I stood on a gate and politely smiled as people said "Oh, you gotta work on Christmas? That sucks." You know what would suck more? Not having a job to provide for my family.

What really infuriates me are these members and their wives bitching about Memorial Day. It isn't about them and it certainly isn't right to say "Happy Memorial Day." What are we supposed to be happy about? It's a day to recognize and honor the men and women who have given their life for this country. It isn't just a four-day weekend and a boozy BBQ. No one should "honor" your husband on Memorial Day....he's still fucking breathing!

But today is Labor Day. A holiday that honors and recognizes the contributions the ENTIRE American workforce has made to the country, not just those who wear camo. All you are doing is causing the American people to detest the military even more. You sound like spoiled, entitled brats. You don't think you get enough recognition? Then don't re-enlist because that is NEVER going to change. All the bumper-stickers and window clings in the world aren't going to change that. You voluntarily signed up for a job that may or may not put you in harms way. So did cops, firefighters, construction workers, ice road truckers, commercial fisherman, and miners but they don't claim every holiday as their own.

You can argue that you're willing to lay down your life for this country and that deserves more respect and that may be true. But anyone who works is keeping the American economy going and in these uncertain financial times, THAT deserves respect too. They don't have the security of the US Government, they don't have the health care and the guaranteed place to live. They go to work every day and work their asses off (just like you) and provide for their families. They deserve recognition just like you, the difference is is that they don't demand it.

Grow the fuck up. For those of you vets who DON'T behave that way, thank you for your service, your work ethic, and your attitude. I appreciate it.