Congressmen (and women) Who Think They Don't Make Enough Money

Are you kidding me with this??  (Disclaimer: They did not get a raise THIS year) This just makes my blood boil.  Who do these people think they are?  First of all, they do shit.  Absolutely nothing has gotten done this year.  They can't get a deal together to save their lives and they can't even have a civilized conversation with one another anymore.  It's all posturing for the media to see who can be the biggest God-freak or crazy person.  If they're not burning books, saving fetuses, protecting the ultra rich, or sending crotch shots to their Twitter fans, they're a whining like a preschooler in the toy aisle at Target.  I take that back, I've seen better behaved whiny preschoolers.  And now they think they need a raise.  Kiss.  My.  Ass.  Why don't they just say, "Let them eat cake!"

(Can you tell I've been reading a lot of books lately about the French Revolution?  Let me tell you, there are A LOT of similarities to what is going on now.  I'm going to start putting my money in the guillotine market, I think there could be a future there.)

How many of you, dear readers, would like to make $174,000 a year?  For a job where you get 23.5 weeks of vacation.  Oh, excuse me, "non legislative periods."  They get very persnickity when you call it vacay.  They "work" during this time.  They meet with their constituents (to ask for money) and raise campaign funds (so they can afford to run again and keep their cush job).

I tell you what, I'm about ready to run for Congress.  It sounds like a good racket to me.  I get to live in DC for half the year and rub elbows with the movers and shakers of the world.  I get to eat out at nice restaurants when the lobbyists want to bend my ear.  I get healthcare and a pension.  I never have to fill out one of those asinine 360 reviews, because I've got job security at least until the next election (that reminds me, better go do some more fundraising).  And when I'm a little short on dough, I'll just vote myself another pay raise.  Why didn't I think of this sooner?

I'm such a sucker to be a working stiff.  It can't be that hard to run for Congress.  Look at the idiots who are there now.

I need to go to Kinkos and print me some yard signs.  Something with a lot of flag waving on it (it's Kansas, you know) and maybe itty bitty crosses that are subliminally embedded into my flags so people will know which side of the coming Armageddon I'm on - I refuse to be Left Behind.  I need to kiss some babies, hold a prayer vigil at my local Planned Parenthood clinic and tell the world to repent now or Hurricane Katia will kick their asses even more than Hurricane Irene did.

Benjamin Franklin once suggested elected government officials should not be paid for their service.  What a strange idea!  Can you imagine if we'd gone with that?  The horror!!!  People volunteering (I just threw up in my mouth a little, so imagine what a Congressman would do - probably set DC on fire)!   People actually giving their time because they actually believe they can help our country be successful??!!  What the hell kind of nonsense was that, Ben?  Wasn't that the guy who thought the noble turkey should be our state symbol??



Do you know why Ben favored the turkey over the eagle?  Here is what he wrote to his daughter:

"...I wish the Eagle had not been chosen as the representative of our country.  He is a bird of bad moral character.  He does not get his Living honestly..."



A bird of bad moral character who does not get his living honestly.  Hmm...sounds a lot like Congress.  I knew Ben was one of my favorite Founding Fathers for a reason.

Who wants to run for Congress with me?  We can't fuck it up anymore than those guys have.

SkinaMax

Who watches SkinaMax?  Come on.  I know you do.  We all have once or twice.  Or fifty times.  You don't have to hide here.  There are noooo secrets here.

For those of you still claiming you have no idea what I'm talking about, I'll educate you.  "SkinaMax" is what most cinema aficionados, like myself, call Cinemax After Dark.  You know, the low budget, soft core porn that comes on late at night that is supposedly more geared toward women because there are stronger plot lines and fewer gang bangs.

But when I say "low budget," I mean "low budget" as I realized firsthand the other night.

I wasn't very tired and decided I'd watch TV.  I was scrolling through the U Verse guide to see what was on.  There is a small picture in the corner that shows you what's currently on the channel you're scrolling through.  As I was scrolling along trying to decide if I should watch "Storage Wars" (How do these guys stay in business buying all that crap?) or an old episode of "Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" (the only RH where they still party like rock stars) a picture caught my eye.  I couldn't figure out what I was seeing.  Rather than read the title of the movie like a smart person would do, I just selected the channel.  My screen filled to full size and it was a naked derriere larger than life size.

Whoa!  Now I realized what I was seeing.  OK, well, I'm here now.  I might as well see what's going on.

It was a shower scene with bow chicka wow wow music going on.  It was a young lady doing a solo act with her bar of soap and really getting down.  I won't say if it was laziness or interest that kept me there, but I'm not embarrassed to say I stayed on that channel for another three minutes or so 'cause, you know, once I read it, the plot synopsis sounded interesting.

It was the usual: Young, innocent ingenue, new to the big city is hoping to get her education at a prestigious all girls' prep school for witches, but realizes her magical talents lie elsewhere...in the bedroom with her roommates and her sultry warlock professor.  It's your typical SkinaMax paranormal plot.  It's like Twilight for TwiMoms who weren't satisfied with Stephenie Meyer's description of Bella and Edward's honeymoon (anybody else think their book was missing a page or two??).

This was no Twilight and without Edward in the picture, I was growing bored as the camera fixated on her various body parts.  I was about to change the channel and find some "Law & Order" (love me some "L&O" late at night - chung chung) when suddenly she turned around to show us the ass again.  I took a closer look this time and was so horrified I couldn't change the channel.

She had a ZIT the size of a quarter on her ass cheek!  Truly!

And the camera LOVED it.  I swear, the camera man ZOOMED in on the zit.  I thought maybe it was part of the movie and it would fester and grow like she'd been cursed by her bitchy roommate who wanted the sexy warlock professor for herself.

Nope.  Just a normal zit on the actress' ass and no one on the production crew seemed to care.

WTF??  Was the makeup lady late that day?  Did they not have waterproof cover up?  Couldn't they find a stand in for this scene?  It really wouldn't have upset the plot if Alli had the shower scene instead of Brittanie.  I doubt anyone at home would have noticed.  "Hey, wait a minute, isn't that Brittanie's shampoo?  What's Alli doing there soaping up with Brittanie's bar of soap??  This movie is so unbelievable now."

Better yet, what must her OTHER CHEEK look like that this was deemed her good side??  I kept watching hoping to see her turn the other cheek, but she never did.  It was always kept to the wall.  The camera panned down her soapy legs and I was disgusted to see her legs were bruised in several places.  What does this girl do in her off time - wrestle?

I get that SkinaMax doesn't have a huge budget and as I've said before, no one (except me) watches these movies for the plot, but still!  There should be SOME standards, right?  Especially if people aren't watching for the riveting plot, then I would think the talent should be "camera-ready" since that's what everyone's tuned in to watch.

It's funny, because normally I think actresses and models should represent "real women."  I'm constantly bitching about it.  I hate the skinny, anemic looking girls who teach my daughter to hate her muscular thighs.  I hate the big silicone boobs that literally look like melons glued to 90 pound women's chests.  I hate that women in Hollywood who have natural curves are considered "big" when really they're still smaller than the average woman in America.

And yet, here's a real woman, zits and bruises (and fake boobs) and all and I really don't want to see her naked.  I'm a huge hypocrite.  I don't want to see fake boobs or women made to look like little girls but at the same time I also don't want to see zits or stretch marks or bruises.  Sorry.  I'm a jerk.  I'll own it.  If I wanted to see zits, stretch marks and bruises I'd just look in the mirror.  

Come on, SkinaMax, stay true to the plot line!  It's not like this is a movie about meth addicts getting down and dirty (if that was the case she had way too many teeth).  These chicks are witches.  Surely there is a spell for clear skin!

Bottom line is, I'd like to have a natural looking woman with a LITTLE movie magic (and cover up) in my late night TV watching.  Maybe tonight I'll try Showtime, I hear they have a bigger budget.

[On a side note, I think the page views for this one is going to be OFF THE CHARTS.  Do you know how many page views I get from people (perverts) stumbling onto my blog with searches for "deep throat"?  "Skinamax" and "gang bang" is going to put me on the (perverted) map.  Stand back while I blow up.  You can say you knew me when.]


School Supplies

Today was meet the teacher and drop off all your school supplies for my daughter's school.  She's in her last year of preschool and her list included items like:  thin markers, thick markers and Pipsqueak markers.  Do you know how much Pipsqueak markers cost?  Ridiculous.  I was fuming this morning as I packed up her bag of supplies and noticed the list called for 4 glue sticks.  The 3 packs were on sale so her class got short changed a glue stick.  They can bill me - or bite me.  Their choice.

Tomorrow is my son's day and I can tell you right now, I still don't know the difference between a "plastic" pocket folder and a "poly" pocket folder.  I DO know my colors, so he did get a green one, a red one and a blue one.  I was able to cross that part off my list with confidence!  I also could not find the particular brand of pencils that was asked for.  He got the "skippies" of the pencil world:  whatever brand Wal Mart had on sale.

All in all, I'm pretty lucky with the school supplies thing though.  I can't imagine having to label EACH individual crayon with my child's name!  True story, a friend of mine was doing this the other night, per the teacher's request.  That's just sick and wrong.

When I sat down to bitch about school supplies, I found this on FB tonight.  No one seems to know who the original author is.  I can tell you, it wasn't me.  After reading this, I realized why bother?  She summed it up perfectly and said it better than I ever could:

UPDATE:  I got an email telling me who to give credit to for this glorious letter to the teacher.  It came from Ginny over at Praying to Darwin.

For all you Mommies dealing with this shit right now, cheers!

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
School Supplies
by XXXXXXXXXXXX on Monday, September 7, 2009 at 10:31am

************************************************
Dear Mrs. X:

In just over a week, you will be my son’s Grade 1 teacher. He is ever so excited to be under your tutelage. Why, since the last day of kindergarten, entering your class was all he could talk about. He gleefully thrust a piece of paper into my hand on that June afternoon, and said, “Here’s a list of the stuff I need for school next September!”

And I have to admit, I, too, was excited. I’m a school supplies geek from way back. And so, in early August, I set out to buy the items you’d listed. It was on my fourth store that the realization began to sink in.

You’re a crafty bitch, aren’t you?

This list was a thinly disguised test. Could I find the items, exactly as you’d prescribed? Because if not, my son would be That Kid, the one with the Problem Mother, Who Can’t Follow Directions.

For example, the glue sticks you requested. In the 40 gram size. Three of the little buggers. (What kind of massive, sticky project you’ve got planned for the first day of school that would require the students to bring all this glue, I cannot imagine.) But the 40 gram size doesn't come in a convenient 3-pack. The 30 gram size does. But clearly, those would be wildly inappropriate. So I got the individually priced 40’s, as per your instructions.

Another bit of fun was your request for 2 packs of 8 Crayola crayons (basic colors). The 24 packs, with their 24 *different* colors, sat there, on sale. I could have purchased *three* of the 24 packs for the price I had to pay for the 8 packs. (Clearly, you’ll not be teaching the youngsters any sort of economics lessons this year.) Even the cashier looked at me, as if to say, “Pardon me, ma’am, but are you slow?” as I purchased these non-bargain crayons. But that’s what the list said. And I was committed to following the list.

But the last item, well, now, you saved your malice up for that one, didn’t you? “8 mm ruled notebooks”, you asked for. Simple enough. Except the standard size is "seven" millimetres. One. Millimetre. Difference. Do you realize, Mrs. X., exactly how infinitesimal the difference between 7 mm ruling and 8 mm ruling is? Pretty small, I assure you. The thickness of a fingernail, approximately. But that millimetre, that small bit of nothingness, made me drive to four different stores, over the course of three sweaty August hours. And when I finally, finally found the last remaining 8 mm notebooks, I took no pleasure in my victory. I merely shifted my focus. To you, Mrs. X.

You wanna dance, lady? Let’s dance.

Because I am just batshit crazy enough to play your games. And, in turn, come up with some of my own.

On show and share day, my son will be bringing the video of his birth. It will be labelled, “Ben’s First Puppy.” Enjoy.

He will be given a list of words, and daily, he will ask you what they mean. Words such as “pedophile”, “anti-semite”, and “skank”. Good luck with those.

At some point, you will attempt to teach him mathematics. And I’m quite sure that, like most of your ilk, you will require my son to “show his work”. And he will. Through interpretive dance.

Because that is who you’ve chosen to tangle with, toots. A stay at home mom who is not entirely balanced, and has altogether too much time on her hands. But is, most certainly, A Mother Who Can Follow Directions.

Sincerely,

Ben’s Mom

Punk Ass Kids

I'm really fed up with teenagers lately.  It's funny, there's all this brouhaha about banning babies/little kids from airplanes and restaurants and to me I'd take a crying baby ANY DAY over a punk ass teenager.  At least a crying baby can't help being a pain in the ass whereas a teenager being a dick is just a dick like this sweet little princess.

The teens I've been coming into contact with lately are such a waste of space I feel I must punch the entire generation.  Sorry, if you've got a "good one" living under your roof.  You obviously keep a tight rein on your teen and you don't let him/her out in public to act like a jackhole like this power-fueled zit holder:

On Monday we took the fam to Worlds of Fun.  It's like the Kansas City version of Six Flags, only smaller since it's KC.  My kids chose to ride the log ride as their first ride of the day.  Since I'm pushing 40 these days and I've given birth to two kids my bladder is not what it used to be.  I, of course, needed to use the rest room before we rode through sloshing water.  I told them I'd catch up.  I found my family about halfway through the line and I popped over the barrier to join them.  Immediately I was confronted by a sweaty faced teenage girl telling me I'd just "cut" all the people behind me.  I was so stunned by this that I did not have an immediate witty retort other than, "I had to use the bathroom."

"I understand that, but you can't stay here.  You're cutting all of these people behind you."

"No, I'm JOINING my family.  I had to use the restroom and they saved my place."

"Your family can stay, but you have to go.  You're CUTTING."

I turned and looked at the people behind me.  No one said anything.  Really, people?  You feel like I'm cutting you?  The boat seats 4.  I'm just filling out our boat.  Were you going to join my family of 3 in a boat that seats 4?  Am I really holding you up from your ride?  Did I say I was going to take my own boat and ride alone?  You pussies.  You can't speak up because you're afraid this 15 year old kid will exert her full measure of power and throw you out of the park.

As I considered my next move, I noticed several posted signs alerting me to the illegality of line jumping.  The signs indicated that the girl did indeed have the power to boot my ass from the park if I fought her. 

We'd just plunked down a hundred bucks for a fun day and this was the first ride of the day.  Was I really willing to risk getting booted?  I looked at my kids with their big, worried eyes and swallowed my pride.

"Fine."  I said.  "We'll ALL get out of line."  We all jumped the barrier and I couldn't resist, but I had to add, "What are you, like 15?  You don't even understand.  This is my family.  These are my kids.  They were holding my place, you ...idiot."  Yeah, "idiot" was the best I could do.  My kids were standing there and I think they'd cry if they heard me say "twat" which is what I really wanted to call her.  Plus, I have no intention of teaching my kids to swear.  That's what public school is for.

The rest of our day at WoF was filled with a combination of sullen teenager workers who could barely be trusted to check my children's harness belts before sending them whirling 30 feet in the air or Hitler's Youth yelling at us to keep the harnesses belted until the ride comes to a "full and complete stop."  Some of the HY really enforced that one.  A couple of middle schoolers got the threat that they would be banned from the ride if they unbuckled their seat belts.  Even though I didn't like the first HY I met on the log flume, I have to say I was more inclined to be on the HY side since I didn't want my kids to unbuckle their seat belts before we were stopped (like the Hubs taught them!).

The other teenagers that are pissing me off this week are the ones who are setting fire to our local elementary school playgrounds.  What a bunch of dickheads.

Last year our school had their playset burned to the ground and it was a real pain in the ass.  It cost a lot of money to get the playground rebuilt and it couldn't get done until winter so the kids didn't have the playset for the first semester. 

I said on my FB yesterday that these punks should be caned when they're caught and someone suggested they be forced to rebuild the structure.  These kids couldn't build a diorama in fifth grade (you know Mommy did it for them) so I don't trust them to build the monkey bars my kid is going to be swinging from.  No thank you.

I'd rather see them sell their big ass trucks with the Truck Nutz and use the money to pay for the new playset.  I'd like to see them get their asses caned so hard they can't sit, so they'd have to stand out there all day and supervise the work, bringing water to the workers when they need it and holding their tools for them.  If the truck money is not enough then they have to sell their iPad, iPhone, computer, PlayStation, $200 jeans, etc.  We'll have a big auction on their front lawn of their belongings.  I've always wanted an iPad and I love a good auction. 

These punks burning down playsets and telling their fathers to stop being "prudes" are the same kids who got rewards for hanging up their coats properly and were applauded for finishing twelfth in a 12 person game.  These kids have been spoiled their entire lives and have obviously never been punished for anything they've done. 

What would YOUR parents have done if you burned down a school playground?  I know I probably wouldn't be here writing this.  I would have been killed (literally) or shipped off to a military school and I'd be serving my country proudly in Iraq right now. 

It's just unbelievable to me that these little shits are our future leaders.  I didn't think it could be worse than it is now, but I could be wrong. 

People Who Read My Blog But Don't Comment and Don't "Follow" Me

Helloooo out there.  I know you're sitting there in your pjs with your cup of joe, tea, hot cocoa, bourbon, whathaveyou reading this.  I ran into sooooo many people this week who told me "Hey, I read your blog every day and I LOVE it."

Well, thank you very much!

But that's not good enough.

See, I'm a egotistical little you know what.  I was thrilled to hear the love from you in person, but I don't get that every day.  The only way I know you love me is when I see comments on my blog or when people sign up to be Followers.

I know, I know, in order to do this, you have to log in and give Blogger some semi-personal info, but it's only once and it's fairly painless.

This blog is my own little slice of sanity in a chaotic world and I am so much calmer when I can SEE that I'm not out here alone talking to myself.  So, please do this for me.

Go on, be a joiner!  Give Blogger your blood and first born child so that my ego can inflate a bit more and I can tell the Hubs - "I got 10 new followers today.  Booyah!  Only 300 more page hits a day before Google Ads will start to pay us 5 bucks a month for my 20 hours of writing.  We're going to be rich and famous!"

Deep People



OK, so I received this award last week from Selena over at Because Motherhood Sucks.  Her blog title is a lot like mine - pretty self-explanatory.  She holds nothing back and I love that.

In order to claim my award though, I must post a list of 7 Deep Things About Me.  Ha.  Anyone who knows me, knows I always hang out in the shallow end of the pool. 

This is the first blogging award I've ever received and I'm pretty stoked and so I'm going to have to do the list.  Here goes:

1.  When I was 18, I made the conscious decision to turn from an innie to an outie.  I'm not talking belly buttons here, I'm talking personality.  I'd been a real wall flower up until that point and I hated my life.  I didn't have too many friends and I really wasn't a big fan of myself.  When it came time for college, I changed my name from Jenni to Jen and created a new persona.  I went off to college and forced myself to become outgoing and friendly.  I still kept my sarcastic side though, I couldn't be Holly Golightly after all.  I reinvented myself as the funny girl who always had great stories to tell.  Nowadays I go back and forth between my innie and outie personlity.  I still like my alone time and I only have a few really close friends but lots of people I can invite to a party - because I love a good party.  I'm also ballsier now and I won't take anyone's shite.  I'm hoping I can teach my kids this long before they're 18 and spare them some heartache. 

2.  I never thought I'd be a working mom.  My mom stayed home with my brother and I for most of our childhood and only worked part time when we were older.  I thought I'd be like her.  I thought I'd have a bunch of babies (at one point, I thought 5 kids sounded perfect - HA!) and stay home and have so much fun with them.  Yeah, my shopping addiction changed all of that for me.  Once I had kids I realized they were just like real life Cabbage Patch Dolls that I could dress up and accessorize.  Those things ain't cheap and if I was going to continue dropping so much money on adorable ensembles, toys and such I'd better keep working.  The other thing I realized is that I LIKED my job.  I started selling real estate two years before my oldest was born and it was the first and only job I've ever liked.  And this one, I actually LOVED.  It fits my personality (now that I'm an outie) and my skill set to a "T".  It also fits in nicely with being a mom.  I can make my own schedule and work from home.  I can be with my kids a lot (thank God I didn't have 5 though!!) and my mom still doesn't work so she can stay home with my kiddos.  We'd be lost without her. 

3.  I have a love/hate relationship with my house.  Because I'm a Realtor my house is my calling card.  I have a beautiful home, but it's always a mess.  I have a cleaning lady come twice a month and for almost 48 hours each month my house looks pretty good - IF you don't go into the "off limits" areas where I shove stuff.  I've told myself that when the kids go back to school next week I'm going to work on decluttering these off limits areas and getting them cleaned out.  I'm also going to try really hard this year to keep my house picked up.  Our house isn't dirty - I don't want you to think Hoarders, but it's just constantly messy.  Toys and shoes everywhere, because I work from home, I try to multi task and do laundry too so there is always a pile that needs to be washed or folded, that sort of thing.  It's starting to stress me out now and so I must do something about it. 

4.  I never make my bed.  That sort of goes with number 3, but no matter how good my house will look, I doubt I'll still make my bed.  I just don't get it.  Put all those pillows on every morning and then take them off again at night.  It's just easier to crawl into an unmade bed at night.  I make the bed if company is coming. 

5.  I like to be in charge.  I don't do well taking orders from people.  There's a reason that I'm self-employed.  I was a terrible employee and I always thought my bosses were idiots (sorry if one of my former bosses is reading this).  I'm a doer and I feel like business is full of meetings for planners.  Let's just get this shit done, shall we?  I will listen to others ideas, but if you're going to give me advice or a suggestion as to do how to do something better, you'd better be ready for me to say, "That's a great idea.  You're in charge.  Now go do it."  I will call your bluff everytime.  You've been warned.

6.  I've been accused of being a man.  Not by anyone who has met me in person.  Just by readers of this blog.  They think I'm a man posing as a woman writing this blog.  I think that's hilarious.  I'm all gal, I promise.  I just talk like truck driver and I'm scrappy.

7.  I made it, but I'm out of deep things.  Told you I was shallow.

Anyone Else Falling Apart Or Is It Just Me?

So I'm pretty sure I'm going through a midlife crisis. I feel like I'm falling apart. I feel like the more I try to keep fro...