Head Bussa

I know I am on a blog break, but this shit is too long for Facebook.

Little Bug and I were having a perfectly lovely day today. We went to lunch, got to build a cool wishing well out of Lego's at Toys R Us, we were having a blast....until we dropped in Big Lots.

After finding some super cool silly things we stood in a very long line to pay. I got bumped from behind by a nice enough woman who apologized, no biggie. However, it caused my cart to gently bump a lady in front of me. I was about to apologize, when her husband turned around, slammed the cart into my stomach and yelled "WAIT! JUST WAIT." I simply said "Wow. I was bumped and in turn bumped your wife. I'm sorry, but there is no need to freak out." Even the couple that bumped into me took up for me and told him to calm down and knock off the attitude.

He snapped. I told him to act like an adult, he yelled at me to keep acting like a child. I smiled and prepared to pay for my purchases. Even the cashier was like "WTF?" Of course not one employee thought they should call the manager as this man berated a white woman with a little girl, but whatever. I wanted y Tic Tac Toe shot set.

The line we were in had two cashiers. I was at the first, he was further up at the second one, but stood right next to the card reader of mine. As he stood there, shoulders firmly squared off at me, I smiled bigger and said "Excuse me sir, can you please move aside? Wouldn't want to hit you with my cart."

He lost it. Told me to shut my mouth and even raised his hand like he wanted to backhand me. I said "Wow, you're a man. Act like one and not a jerk." Then his wife lost it and SCREAMED "You don't call my husband a jerk. You better shut up or I'll shut you up!" I took my receipt, grabbed Little Bug's hand and smiled some more. As we walked out they were right behind us, still mouthing off. I told Little Bug, "I'm sorry baby girl. Some people are just garbage." The wife screamed "Yes! Some people ARE!" I put Little Bug in the car, strapped her in, closed the door, and see the wife walking towards my car. Her husband had already gotten in the passenger seat of their dark blue Honda Civic. Probably got a DUI and the wife has to drive him.

Anyway, she stood in the middle of the parking lot row and was holding her purse like a weapon and screaming "HEY BITCH! BITCH!" I looked at her dead on and said "Get in your fucking car." She stepped back, looking shocked. She yelled, "That's some mouth on you bitch!" I took off my sunglasses, set my purse on my trunk, made a small but threatening step and said "Get. In. Your. Fucking. Car. NOW." She ran back to her car, got in, and drove off.

I was a little bummed. She thinks I have a mouth on me, she should have seen the fists I've got. She would have been easy enough to take down. It was her husband I was worried about. He had an inch and a hundred pounds on me. Could have winded him pretty quick. Maybe kneed him in the dick if he got close enough, you know, if I could have found it under all that belly.

All of this could have been avoided had her asshole husband just said "Oh excuse you." I would have politely apologized and we would have been done. But no, he turned around and forcefully struck me intending to cause harm. And in front of my child no less. I know most of you, had you been there, probably would have held my baby so I could beat his ass or just beat his ass yourself if he had struck Little Bug with the cart. Told Hubby about it when I got home. The cop in him came out real quick, but I handled it and talked Hubby down. I couldn't stop LOLing though when I refused to give him the plate number and he said "All I need is a partial."

BTW his wife's ass was so fat she probably didn't feel a thing.

Take U To Da Movies

I caved. I'm blogging my movie excursion. But first, the title of the blog is (of course) a song title, but you MUST see the music video.

BANGS- Take U To Da Movies

You. Are. Very. Welcome. What's that? You didn't thank me for bringing such awesome into your life? Well, you will later when this gem is stuck in your head. Because you can go to da movies any time u like, but guess who you gonna call? U baby boy, Bangs. 

Okay, took Little Bug to the 11:55 (AM because I am not an awful parent...too soon?) showing of Ice Age: Continental Drift. Her cousins had already seen it and raved about how funny it was, so she was dying to go. My older sister said that it wasn't bad either, so I wasn't dreading it. We got to the theater at 11:30-ish so I'd have plenty of time to get tickets, get her to use the bathroom, get her snack and find seats. I know it's been out for a while, but it was Saturday morning. There are always families out on Saturday morning. And, frankly, I wanted the seats in the front part of the top section so I could put my feet on the rail.

By 11:45 we entered the theater and our seats were open. I situated Little Bug, laid out her spread of popcorn, M&M's and fruit punch and checked in on Foresquare (gotta get dem points). There were a few other people in the theater but they were sitting higher up. They also didn't have children with them. Score! Kids movies without kids are the best. Little Bug doesn't count. She behaves better than most adults. 

Slowly, like Michael Phelps' 400 IM performance tonight kind of slowly, people started coming in. It's sort of a pet peeve of mine when people are late to a movie. They come in and finger pop each other's assholes instead of finding a seat. They yell for the rest of their party to join them, though they are only 2 feet away. Granted, I think late to a movie is one second after the trailers have started. These people were still technically on time. 

First up was a middle-aged Hispanic man with a soul-patch. He wore cargo shorts and a tee that had some attempt at a witty saying. He was followed by his wife, a white woman who looked younger with dirty blond hair and a very tired look. She pushed an umbrella stroller with a child in it. He was about 1, maybe younger, but he was already fussy. The husband sat down to the left of us but a row back, mumbling about how the seat he wanted was taken. I'm pretty sure he meant us as he was scowling right at me. The wife left the stroller at the base of the steps (with the baby in it) and then went to her husbands side. As the baby fussed and flailed, she stood next to his chair as he listed off things he wanted from the snack bar. She nodded and then started to walk out of the theater, but turned back when he said "Take care of it. I'm not missing this movie." She obediently fetched the stroller and left. 

I was not aware that Ice Age was the must see movie of the year. She came back after only a few minutes, juggling popcorn, a soda and two boxes of candy along with the stroller. Again, she left the baby at the foot of the stairs and took him his feast. She went back to the baby and started to take him out of the stroller, but the husband said "Keep him in it cause I ain't holdin' him." 

That's where she STOOD for the rest fo the movie. Just to the left of us, a family of four sat down. Well, the mom first asked if the seat next to Little Bug was taken and I said no. She plopped her 10-year-old down in the seat, then she sat, then her other kid, then the father. She handed the other kid a box of candy and then turned to the 10-year-old and said "You're in trouble, you don't get any!" I'm all for punishing your children if they deserve it, but she said it like she was getting off on it. I actually heard her let out a "ha ha ha." 

Behind us sat a family of 7. Five boys, all under 6 easily, and a mom and dad. The mom looked frazzled and understandably so. Her oldest (and fattest) sat behind me and proceeded to kick the headrest of my seat. Mommy dearest was dealing with a 2-year-old who was trying to take her diet coke (which she SCREAMED at him for) and Fatty wanted her to pay attention to him. He kept saying "Look mom, I'm kicking the chair. Look what I'm doing mom! Mom look!" I didn't hear her correct him, but he stopped suddenly. She probably gave him a "mom look". The dad stood up and said "I ahve to use the restroom", though it was more of a request than a statement of fact. She glared at him and said "Go. Quickly." 

Once the movie started, I figured it wouldn't be so bad. Kids make "oohs" and "aahs" and even talk a bit, but it's a kids movie. That's what they do. I was wrong. It wasn't just so bad. It was awful. Little Bug makes me thank the lord that she's my daughter and I didn't get stuck with any other kid in that theater. 

The 10-year-old spent the whole movie kicking the bars in front of us. It started out as an annoying vibration I could feel in my propped-up feet and then morphed into a constant "thomp thomp thomp" for the entire course of the flick. He also kept trying to steal Little Bug's M&M's when she would set them in her cup holder. I caught him each time. He would watch her and slowly creep his hand on the bag, until he'd see me looking and he'd turn and resume his kicking. His mother (a Fressa if I've ever seen one) largely ignored him the whole time as she was too busy, ANSWERING HER PHONE. She would answer it (a total of 6 TIMES) and say "Hey. Yeah. I can't talk. I'm in a movie. Yeah, that one. I know. I'll call you back." The sixth time became her last as I had finally had enough. The kid was kicking and trying to steal the M&M's whilst giving everyone a play-by-play of the movie and she answered her phone again. I had had enough. I said "Excuse me. If my 4-year-old can behave, then maybe should get off your phone and make your kid behave." She glared at me hard and then said into her phone "Yeah, I gotta go. Some white girl is getting pissed."

Back to the father and husband of the year. His wife stood for the whole movie and that baby wailed for 30 minutes straight. No exaggeration. He didn't even flinch. He just belly-laughed at stuff that wasn't that funny and would say "Oh shit!" during the action parts. His wife walked the baby out once, but came back in, only to have it wail again. But he had the nerve to loudly whisper "shut up!" when the family of 7's 2-year-old got excited. Part of me wanted to do his wife a favor and forcibly shut him up, but he definitely wasn't worth jail time.

Once the movie ended, I realized how many adults were in the theater. Far more than the number of children. It always skeeves me out when older adults are kidless at a kids movie. Shaking off the heeby-jeebies, I started to gather our things and trash, but sat as Little Bug danced to the end credits music. The Fressa stood up, walked right into her 10-year-old and then promptly launched her phone into the air. No one saw where it landed apparently, because she screamed at her husband to call it. I had to laugh out loud. She glared at me, but then frantically returned to searching (on her hands and knees) for it. The husband and kids started to grab their trash and she said "LEAVE IT! FIND MY PHONE!" I told Little Bug to grab her M&M's packaging because "good people don't leave their garbage. Only awful people do." Little Bug, as if catching on to the dig, said "That's right Momma, we're not awful people who leave their trash." I love that kid.

It always happens to me, it seems. But really, I bet this happens at every movie. I just have awesome situational awareness and keen observation skills. Really, the next time you're out-and-about and not rushed, take your time and observe everything around you. Eavesdrop a bit, stare even. You'll be amazed how fucked up the world around you is.

The Importance of Being Idle

I know, I know, I didn't blog yesterday. I suck and I'm lazy and everything else you're thinking. I'm just finding Friday's so hard to write for. I need a designated theme so I don't have an excuse to not write.

So, for right now, you get pictures of my week. Pretend you enjoy it.

Sunday: I made chocolate chip cookies stuffed with Oreos. They didn't look pretty, but they were a chocolate orgasm in my mouth.

Monday: Hubby brought home a Beretta 96 40 S&W. I am a happy girl.

Tuesday: Rumsfeld has found a new chair to claim as his own. Little Bug has been pissed every time she finds him there. I expect a brawl any day now.

Wednesday: My loofah, wait for it, CUT ME. You know the rope part that is usually tied and glued to stay attached to the puff? Mine has a vendetta against my leg apparently. 

Thursday: Blond Sonja and those hooker hoop earrings. Next time I try to get her gut that is wrapped in XS Forever 21 tops. The Deputy didn't know I was snapping a pic, yet he's still looks like a creeper looking my way.

Friday: Little Bug spent most of the day cleaning her room. Big difference, huh?

Also, the Sun City forgot why it got its name and it rained.

I took Little Bug to the movies today. We saw Ice Age. It was blog worthy to say the least, but I'm going to refrain. We're watching the Olympics and since this only happens every four years, it gets priority.

See you Monday!

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

Baseball, without an ounce of doubt, is America's past time. I care not that basketball and football get higher ratings, nor will I admit that the steroid scandal has damaged the games reputation. Sure, when Barry Bonds was accused (fuck it he's guilty) of using them, I stopped being a Giants fan. A team that I had loved since as far back as I can remember had a fucking cheater and it killed me. It was one thing for other teams to have their Mcgwire's and Sammy Sosa's, but not my Giants. It wasn't until recently, maybe 4 or 5 years ago that I began to enjoy the game again and LOVE the Giants. Before the World Series win, mind you. My baby sis was and is a bit of a baseball nut. Just listening to her go on and on about stats and records and mostly the Giants renewed my love of the game. Brian Wilson's beard also helped, have you seen it? He's pure awesome. James Harden of the Thunder can only aspire to this amount of greatness.

So with this renewed love of the game, and a husband who played it for years, we enrolled Little Bug in T-Ball. Soccer was pure chaos, all they did was run aimlessly and get a lucky goal, but T-Ball would be different. She would have to focus and hopefully, with the right coach, love the game. Unfortunately, we will never know about the right coach part because Hubby and I were the only parents who were willing to coach.

We're a few weeks into the 11-week season right now. It's hot as hell in the Sun City and windy to boot. The fields are this red/orange-dirt that covers everything and anything. And the kids, well, the kids are 4 and 5 years old. Anyone who has ever met a 4 or 5 year old knows that they can't remember to wipe their ass, have the patience of a full bladder, and the attention span of Snookie. Well, probably a bit better than Snookie. It's been challenging, to say the least, but they have made INCREDIBLE progress.

Little Bug still prefers to play with the dirt than pay attention. She still thinks Mommy and Daddy should drop everything to pay attention to her. Oh, and she is one-half of our terrible twosome. Her and this blond haired blue eyed boy have been drawn together like magnets since the first day. They quote Adventure Time, finish each other's sentences, laugh at the silly faces they make, and his mother says she has to write this in a memory book because it's his first case of puppy love. It's cute, really, but I want to separate them just so I can get them to listen.

We had a buy last week and practice wasn't great. It was almost 104 that day and even though we didn't practice until 7pm, they were just miserable. Couldn't pay attention to save their lives. I held out no hope for a good game today. It has been stormy here and I prayed for our game to be rained out, but no such luck. We were at the field with plenty of time before the start of our game and Little Bug sat in the bleachers playing with the other kids. We talked with the photographer the rec center cleared about our team pics, went over the roster one more time to make sure we had a good batting order, and as the kids started to arrive, I already saw it their faces. It was hot and I could go fuck myself.

To make matters worse, our game started 15 mins later than it was supposed to. The other teams that were playing went over their time limit because they wanted a second inning. T-Ball rules are really simple: don't let them kill each other and as long as every kid hits once, you're good to go. No one is keeping score (I am), there are no outs, who cares how many at-bats your kids has? Gotta make sure they get bat time in front of all the scouts? By the time we start, I've already lost any energy required to wrangle them. Whatever, they'll suck but at least they'll have fun. Oh, and we only had 8 out of our 12. So at least batting would be quick right?

We took the field first. Just getting them to stand in the right place is a challenge and today was even worse. I told one kid to go to first and he said "Where's first?" Because you've never stood at it or played it before right? He spent the whole game whining that his leg hurt. Maybe if you didn't dive for every ball (even though there was never a need to) your legs wouldn't hurt. His dad came out on the field and tried to correct him, but he's that kid. The one who has an injury or has to pee or has dirt in his eye or needs his mom, anything to avoid actually playing. Between him and Little Bug dancing in the outfield, I was exhausted. Hubby just gave up and stopped trying to correct. I should have too.

OH! Before I mess up the timeline, after the first 4 at-bats, one of the rec center staffers brings out one of our team members. This kid got dropped off (late) by his dad, but to the wrong field. The dad just took off. What's worse is the kid didn't even have the situational awareness to realize that it was the wrong red team and tried to bat for them. The team was 6/7 year olds and the coach was great. He made sure the staffer knew that the kid was just dropped off, no parent and told him that it looked like he belonged on our field. This kid doesn't really talk, but won't talk at all to adults, or even turn his head in acknowledgement that you are speaking to him. He cries because his glove is on the wrong hand but when you tell him to switch it, he won't. Telling him to pay attention is a waste of time because it's like he goes out of his way to get hit by the ball. His father is a jackass that all the other parents hate and a small part of me thinks he may be abusive. His dad didn't show up until the end of the game. I made sure we reported it to the rec center director because of the no drop off policy and I also mentioned the dad and his rage issues. I confided in them my abuse suspicions as well, and they assured me that they would pass it along to CPS. No child is that fearful of adults without a good reason to be.

BUT that was not the most eventful part of the game. During our first at-bat, we were rather slow in getting the kids up to the plate. Quite frankly, I was the only person in the dugout and I was more concerned with getting water in them than how quickly they got on deck. Hubby was at the plate with them, another dad in the practice box and I was trying to put on helmets, take off their gloves (and assure them they'd get them back), prevent the fist fight that was brewing between two of the boys, and keep their water in their cups or mouths and not their clothing. We did pretty well, considering, but not well enough for the third base coach of the other team. 

He was old and obviously a grandpa, and apparently, our speed enraged him. He yelled out "Come on batter, get it movin', get it movin'." I was trying to get the possibly abused child up and he froze immediately. I assured him he was okay and the old man kept it up. "Get up there, we ain't got all day!" I looked right at him and said "Stop, please. They are 4 and 5 years old." He didn't listen, just got louder. "Knock it off," I added. "They're little kids. You need to be quiet." When he started up again, because how dare a woman tell him anything, the dad helping in the practice box raised the bat in his hand and said "SIR! Knock. It. Off." The dad's size and stern voice did it. Got the attention of the umpire as well and he kicked him off the field. After the game, he came into our dugout and tried to shake my hand, but since they were full, felt the need to pat me on the back. He said "It's cool coach." His pat was more of a full-on slap and I winced. I said "It's not cool. You don't yell at children, especially the ones on my team. And you don't need to touch me." He stepped back, aghast, but then walked the fuck away. I am against elderly abuse, but ol' dude needed an ass whoopin'. If he had said anything else, I probably would have knocked his ass out. He just screamed mean ass old man. I hate mean ass old men.

Any who, the kids got ice-cream after the game and all seemed well. The worst kids from week one were the best behaved today. Little Bug has further affirmed that she'll be a drama/music kind of gal, and that's okay. And I get to drink booze and eat chocolate with my gals tonight. All in all, not a horrible day.