Iowa Sucks Ass 2

I'm still trying to remember my blogging habits, and from what I recall I do nothing special on Wednesdays (phew!!).

So I'll explain my post-its from yesterday..

Connie is my cousin. But recently she and I have been discussing how much more we are like sisters than anything else. And I think this last weekend, I proved it. Totally.

First off, I almost literally haven't seen Bean in 2 weeks. He's been working overtime and on every day that he was off, I had something I had to do.

But Connie had to pick up her kids from their Christmas break with their douchecanoe dad in Iowa.

See, when Connie and Dickwhistle got a divorce, he moved there, with no job lined up and no place to live except with his new girlfriend (a woman he had known before but hadn't seen in at least 5 years).

And in the divorce papers (where he screwed Connie royally) it says she has to bring the kids all the way to Iowa every other year for Christmas, and he has to come all the way here to get them and bring them back every summer.

On the way up, he met Connie in Kansas, mostly I think because he wanted something from her and she gave him gas money. But on the way back, he called at 11:30 on Friday to say he couldn't do that because his girlfriend couldn't find a babysitter for her kid and he didn't want to go without her and they wouldn't all fit in the car.

Now, I respect that. Noone wants to drive 18 hours roundtrip by themselves. But that was his piss-poor planning.

So I called him, since he and Connie were just screaming at each other, and he said he'd try to meet us at the Iowa/Missouri border.

Awesome. That knocks our 36 hour trip down to 31 hours.

Then Saturday when we're in Kansas he finds out that Connie didn't send him gas money. (Which looking at it now, she's glad she didn't do since he didn't drive anywhere and wouldn't have given it back.) So he says he can't go anywhere, because he just spent $2000 on the kids for Christmas and doesn't have it.

Bullshit. If you just spent $2000 on Christmas, you have $40. I even offered to split it with him and still no.

So we drove. And we drove and we drove.

I ended up being in the car for 41 hours once you add in my drive home from Connie's.

The kids were actually amazingly good, Connie and I were just so very tired it was unreal.

And we both had to work Monday.

JJ's Drunken Blogging aka Why I Hate My Ex-Husband and Want to Kick Him in His Nonexistent Nut-sack

First of all, I have to tell you that Bean is asleep and therefore cannot stop me from drunken blogging. Connie is awake, but she doesn't give a rat's ass what I'm doing, so we're all good.

Oliver had a Halloween party tonight.

My sorry ass is still a week behind because of Bean being in the hospital, so I didn't get him the invitations until seriously late - like yesterday. And he only invited like 5 people.

I invited Connie and Miley and Ophalia and Dirty - basically all of me and Bean's friends that have kids.

Connie, Miley and Ophalia came. Dirty did not. He's Bean's friend, the girls are mine. My friends rawk.

Anyway.

Oliver did invite one school friend vocally a week ago, and he really likes him, so I called his mother and confirmed. So he had one school friend there.

He didn't really care that there was only one.. He had his 3 best buds in the same party - Connie's boy, the Beave and School Boy.

So we had this Halloween party.

I made pigs in blankets wrapped all mummy-like and chicken fingers that looked a little (if you squint and turn your head just right) like actual fingers. And a big ass cupcake (because I wanted to). ANd punches, both kid punch and very adult punch.

And I decked out the house.

And I bought favors and a shit-load of candy.

Perry made bad brownies and cookies. He bought fruit snacks and craft supplies and 2 bags of cheap off-brand candy.

Alien (Oliver's biological father) made a creepy maze and bought us a fog machine and strobe light for said maze.

So this party was set up to be the party of the fucking year.

Enter Perry.

Oliver ran into the garage while running the maze and went to Perry, because he hurt himself. And Perry says:

If you're going to run into things then maybe you shouldn't do the maze at all

Y'all, Oliver is a little clumsy. And a lot emotional.

So when he trips over shit he wants a parent to coddle him.

I realize that he's almost 11, but really is too much to look at the injury and give him a fucking hug??

I found Oliver hysterical in the house, where he told me:

I thought this was going to be a fun Halloween party, but Daddy's here and he's ruining it.

He wouldn't have said that to Tallulah.

It's hard to ignore what he says when he's been my dad for 7 years.

I bet he never even liked me.

Normally, I'm pretty diplomatic and I try to just deflect not actively jump in, but Oliver was hysterical and this was a party he's been looking forward to for a year, and I had been drinking the grown-up punch for about 3 hours.

So I pulled Perry into my room (the only kid-free room) and told him that if he couldn't say something nice to my son to not say anything at all.

And you have no idea the level of self control it took to not kick him the fuck out of my house.

The Outing of Jennifer Juniper

I promised this story to Aunt Crazy when she complained about not being able to email replies to my comments.

I could also have titled this:

"Shit You May Have To Go Through If You Want To Be My Friend"

Here you go Aunt Crazy. Just for you because I love you that much.

And also because it's amusing as hell. If you're not me at the time.

I took Oliver to the doctor a few weeks ago for some chest pains he was having (he's fine - it was a bruise, nothing cardiac) and while we were in the waiting room I decided to catch up on my family blog reading, since they had actually posted which they never do.

There were some pictures of a recent home improvement project over at #2's house and I went to comment about how cute it was, typed in my hotmail address and password and..

*GASP*

Jennifer Juniper popped up as the Google ID.

delete delete delete!!!!

You cannot open a popup window because you already have one open

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fuck.

What to do?

What to do??

What the fuck am I going to fucking do??

Diva Chels is at work. No computer.

Cara & Connie are blogger illiterate.

Fuck me.

Fuck me running with a sword.

I know you guys don't know #2 and Mrs. #2, but they're great. I love them to pieces.

However.

Mrs. #2 is more neurotic than I am (yeah, I know you didn't think that was possible), and her mother, who is one of my favorite aunts (from the other side of the family - it's complicated) sees conditions and problems where they aren't. Plus, Mrs. #2 is so innocent that I think I'd probably shock her with my blunt and snarkey ways.

#2 is as mellow as they come, and really kind of accepts me for who I am, but he's gotten close to Amara recently, and I don't think he really wants to hear me bash her like I do. And his parents, who I bow down in awe of, and adore, are almost too conservative to function, and hate it when I say "darn" in their presence.

So you can see why I wouldn't really want them as readers as much as I love them. If this shit got out, there'd be a big ole' come to Jesus family meeting and JJ would be one pissed off camper.

Also keep in mind that Amara, my bitch of a sister, with the lazer beam eyes and the nails of steal and the heart of stone was the comment right before mine.

Where was I??

Oh yeah.

Fuck me running with a multi-twigged branch.

Miley.

Miley's unemployed.

Miley's TOTALLY blogger literate.



Me: Are you at home?

Miley: Yes.

Me: I'm fucked.

Miley: eh?

Me: insert the whole explanation that I already gave you guys

Miley: ookay..

Me: So can you go log in and delete my comment??

Miley: Oh, yeah, no problem, what's your password?

Me: insert me telling Miley my ridiculously long and hacker-proof password

Miley sheesh, woman.. ok, I'll take care of it.


So I breathed a small sigh of relief.

Then I realized.

When someone posts a comment on my blog, I get an email.

And in that email, if I click on their name, it goes to their profile.

That's when the text messages started flying.



Miley: Done.

Me: Does it say who deleted the comment??

Miley: Nope - I went back and checked.

Me: God I hope he doesn't have it set up to email him about comments but it probably does and then I'm totally fucked!!

Miley: Nah you'd be ok. I think. I'll tell you what it looks like, I don't think there's a link to a site.

Me: But it says who left the comment and they might go digging.

Me: Does it have their profile pic??

Miley: Eh go change your user name real quick?

Me: I'm all fucking paranoid now!!

Miley: Calm down hon.

Miley: No pic.

Me: No. I'm not going to let nosy family members make me change my blog stuff.

There was more. But mostly it boiled down to us deciding that there was indeed a link in the emails and Miley agreeing to go take down all the identifying information from my profile and making it private for awhile so that at least they wouldn't be able to follow it back to link up to the blog. Because while I can do that from my phone, it's a pain in the ass.

And that, my dear Aunt Crazy is why you couldn't reply via email to my comments, but no longer, my profile is back for your viewing pleasure and reply to your heart's content.



By the way, I saw #2 this weekend and he did get the email, did know it was from me, and said he doesn't care, and insinuated that he'll keep Mrs. #2 off my back. We'll see.

Either way, I've decided that I don't care. If the family wants to come and read the blog that I didn't tell them about, that I don't particularly want them to read, then let them.

Maybe we'll weed out some of the dickwhistles, fucktards and douchecanoes and then at least my Christmas list will be shorter.

Connie

This is Connie. She's my cousin and quite possibly the only person (other than Bean) that I couldn't live without. She was supposed to come over for lots of wine and dancing and possibly karaoke this weekend but couldn't because her ex-husband is a douche-canoe (I totally stole that - I'm not that good).


She's also one of the few people who can bring me down from one of my hysterical outbursts without breaking a sweat.


She's awesome and I love her, and I just wanted you to know.