Over the River and Through the Woods

To Grandmother's house we go!!

And no, I don't actually know the way, but my GPS does, so no worries.

I'm not sure how much blogging I'll get done there, but I promise to try.

And after 18 hours trapped in a car with my children I should be crazier than normal.

Did I Mention that I'm Crazy??

Or possibly incredibly brave.

But more likely just certifiable.

On Saturday, I'm driving to Colorado.

With my kids.

By myself.

Go ahead. Have me committed.





Please!?!?

The Twilight Zone

The thing that sucks about being gone so long from the blogging world (besides the obvious) is that shit changes. And when you're gone you have no idea what the fuck is going on..

I went to all of my favorite peoples blogs today and most of them look completely different. I feel like I'm in the fucking twilight zone. Where are the layouts I remember?? It's so sad.

And since my memory is like a colander (or maybe even a funnel) it makes me wonder "is this the blog I think it is?? Maybe I went to the wrong blog thinking it was Christy's, maybe this is really Stephanie's blog and oh fuck. What if I have their names totally wrong!!"

Someone please remind me of these troubles if I ever decide to go on hiatis again.

And by the way. Blogging at work is freaking awesome.

JJ Goes to the Shrink Part 2

If you don't know where we left off, you might want to go here.

Doctor #5 called me back..

Me: Hello?

Doctor: Hi! This is Doctor Shrink, is this Jennifer?

Me: Yes.

Doctor: I got your message and I am taking new patients. When would you like to come in?

Hallelujah!!!!! And thank the Lord and all that good stuff.

We talked and set my appointment up for the next day after work.

So when I got there the next day I found his office very easily, but it was really more like a broom closet than an office, and immediately made me feel a little claustrophobic.

It was better when I was out of the waiting room and in his actual office. Still a cabinet, but it had a window.

He took all my information and then we got to talking and I told him how everyone was pissing me off.

We talked about mom and he said I should stand up to her.

No shit Sherlock, but then I have to live with her after. You don't know my mother.

We talked about Perry and his visitation which shocked the fuck out him.

I can't say he's the first one. But he is the first that when given all the facts didn't immediately understand that my hands are tied. And I haven't decided yet if that makes him smarter than everyone else, or an idiot.

We talked about work and he thinks I ought to throw some people to the wolves.

That would be nice, but in the real world there are consequences for that shit, and I'm not even talking about karma.

We even talked a little about Dr. No Personality.

Dr. Shrink thinks I should bitch him up one side and down the other.

And then towards the end he told me that I should take a piece of paper and draw a vertical line down the center and on one side write the things bugging me that I can fix and on the other the ones I have no control over. And then come up with some plans of action for the ones I can do something about.

That's a nice little theory, but I have a feeling that my doing nothing list would be a hell of a lot bigger than my action list.

He didn't exactly call me a doormat, but he kindof did. He's not really wrong.

JJ Goes to the Shrink Part 1

It's no secret that I'm a little on the crazy side. Or maybe alot.

And lately I've been having to try really hard to not punch people in the trachea, so I thought maybe it was time to bite the bullet and find me a shrink.

So I got online and searched through all of my insurance bullshit and found a list of shrinks in my area.

There were 12 that I was willing to drive to.

And the next day at work I started calling.

Y'all, I have a cubicle, in the middle of an office full of extremely nosy men. So for the entirety of these phone calls my ass is sitting outside on a bench in the 3,000,000 degree Houston heat.

Doctor #1

Receptionist: Shrink's office, can you hold?

Me: Sure.

BBBBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Receptionist: Thank you for holding, how can I help you?

Me: Is your shrink taking new patients??

Receptionist: Yes! Would you like to make an appointment?

Me: Yes.

Receptionist: Please hold.

BBBBBBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hung up then. If I can't call the office without migraine inducing hold beeps, then you are not my shrink.

Doctor #2

Receptionist: Shrink's office, how can I help you?

Me: Is your shrink taking new patients??

Receptionist: No. I'm sorry, why did you want to come in?

Me: Umm.. If you're not taking new patients, then I fail to see why that's any of your business. But thanks.

Receptionist: Your welcome!


I will never call that shrink again. Busy-body little phone answerer.

Doctor #3

Receptionist: Shrink's office, how can I help you?

Me: Is your shrink taking new patients??

Receptionist: Yes! Would you like to make an appointment?

Me: Yes.

Receptionist: The next available appointment is on November 19th, would you like me to schedule that?

Me: I was kinda hoping for something a little sooner..

Receptionist: I'm sorry, but we're very busy right now.

Fuck that. I wouldn't be calling if I didn't want to see someone sooner than 3 months from now.

Doctor #4

Receptionist: Shrink's office, how can I help you?

Me: Is your shrink taking new patients??

Receptionist: Yes! Would you like to make an appointment?

Me: Yes.

Receptionist: I have one next Thursday and another on the following Monday.

Me: *sigh* That's fine whichever one is later in the day.

Receptionist: Ok. I just need to get some information from you.

She then proceeded to ask for my insurance information, driver's liscence number, social security number, 3 different contact numbers, emergency contact information, and why I was coming in..

Me: Because my crazy is a little out of control.

Receptionist: Could you clarify that?

Me: People are driving me nuts. They're making me crazier than normal.

Receptionist: I see.... Oh and we're also going to need a credit or debit card number in case you cancel the first appointment. It's the policy with new patients.

Me: I don't have mine on me. Can I make the appointment and call back with that??

Receptionist: No, I'm sorry, but I can save your information and we can put it all in the system then.

I did call back. At 4:30. And got the voicemail:

Thank you for calling Doctor Shrink's office. If you are a current patient and this is an emergency, please dial 1 for our answering service or hang up and dial 911. Our office hours are between 8 and 5. Please leave a message with your name, reason for calling and a number where you can be reached and we'll return your call the next business day.

I'm not a voicemail leaving kind of girl, but I drew myself up ready to leave a voicemail, and then the stupid thing said:

I'm sorry, the mailbox is full. Goodbye.

So many reasons why I didn't call back again. But most of all, only hangup and dial 911 or dial 1 for the answering service if you're a current patient. If your new, go fuck yourself.

Doctors #5 & #6

Both of these had voicemails only that were eerily similiar.

You have reached the confidential voicemail of Doctor Shrink. Please leave a detailed message including your name, telephone number and the reason for your call and it will be returned within 24 hours.

I left a message for Doctor #5 and decided that finding a shrink wasn't worth it.

Because really, people only call these offices when they are either depressed or crazy. It's not like the gynecologist where you're calling because it's that time of the year. Nobody looks up from their perfectly perfect life and says,

You know, I think I'd like to have a yearly checkup with a shrink just to validate my feeling of perfection.

So why would you make it so fucking hard?? If I was depressed I would have slit my wrists after the migraine inducing beeps. And if I was dangerously insane or just a teensy bit more neurotic than I am, I would have flipped out on the nosy receptionist.

I Might be a Stalker.. Sorta

Ok, so I really hope that you guys are reading what I mean, not necessarily what I write, because otherwise I should just re-title this post:

“JJ’s a Psycho Stalker Beware!!”


I was reading Aunt Crazy’s post the other day about how she had to break up with her boyfriend and I realized that she is from somewhere in the vicinity of Houston.


Now for those of you not from Houston, that means that you live just about anywhere within a two hour driving distance from Houston and Houston is about an hour to an hour and a half drive across, so it means nothing. And my rational mind totally knows this.


But my not rational mind started screaming:

Oh my giddy AUNT!!!!!! Aunt Crazy lives close to me!!!!!!! I am SO cool by association!!!!! The Bloggess AND Aunt Crazy live in MY city!!!!! It has to be the COOLEST city EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


And when I was done screaming about that I made my way over to Crazy Texas Mommy to see what she was up to.




And Holy Shit.




She’s coming to Houston to hang out with Aunt Crazy (because she is awesome enough to do that you know).




I thought my head was going to explode.




And I started feeling kind of like a celebrity stalker.

Only not in the “I’m-going-to-camp-outside-your-hotel-and-take-pictures-of-a-random-window-and-claim-its-yours” kind of way, but in the “Fucking-A-I’m-going-to-be-in-the-same-city-as-the-coolest-people-ever” kind of way.


And it started making me want to accost people on the street and tell them to stop littering and pull up their pants, because Aunt Crazy and Crazy Texas Mommy might see them, and they should look their best for Aunt Crazy and Crazy Texas Mommy!! But then I really started thinking about it, and decided I would be doing my bloggy friends a disservice, because Houston has a lot of really blog worthy stuff – like idiots with their pants around their ankles, and if I go around fixing it all, then that’s not fair, I wouldn’t want to deprive them of good blog material, so I’ll just leave everything alone, because I’m nice like that.


So yeah, I’m excited.


But, for the record, Candance and Aunt Crazy, I’m a total wimp in person, so even if I did recognize you on the street, there might be a little whispering to Bean (but no pointing, because that’s rude), and I might swoon, but that’s about it. I’m way too chicken shit to actually walk up and bother someone. So you can safely have a blast in my city with no worries about any crazies on the corner.*


*Ok, maybe not, because there’s a lot of crazies on the corner here, but none of them will be me, I promise.

The Voices in My Head

I've mentioned before how I like to talk to myself..

Well, recently, Bean's been working alot, and I've been feeling chatty, so I've been talking to myself enough to give my voices names*.

It's sad, but true.

So far there are only two - Joe and Bonnie.

Joe is the kindof guy who has a girl for a best friend. In fact, his voice sounds oddly like my best friend, Superman. He tells me to stop being girly and analyzes all of Bean's actions when I need him to. He's awesome, and I don't really mind sharing noggin' space with him, expecially since Superman's all busy being a newlywed and stuff.

But Bonnie is annoying as fuck. That girl whines about everything!! She bitches when Bean hasn't texted us recently and she cries hysterically when he doesn't call us twice from work.
She's constantly worried that Bean's going to leave us. She tries to find meaning out of the tiniest little comments. And she's forever moaning about our weight.
The bitch needs therapy, or some cheese or both.


It's a good thing Joe's there to tell her to shut the fuck up.

So the other night I was bitching telling Bean how I missed him while he was at work because I didn't have anyone to talk to.

Me: But I have shit I NEED to say!!

Bean: Is everything ok?

Me: Oh yeah.

Bean: Then why can't it wait until tomorrow?

Me: Because I want to talk. It's ok, I'll just tell Joe.

Bean:??

Me: Nevermind.

I did eventually tell him about Joe, and he didn't really comment (I'm not really sure why), probably because it was early, and I'm a little evil delicate in the mornings.

But we did touch on it another day.

Me: I'm a good wife.

Bean: You had doubts?!?

Me: Not really, but Joe just confirmed it.

Bean: You love Joe more than me.

Sounds like Bonnie has another victim..


*No worries. We don't actually have split personality disorder. We think.

Also, don't forget Fawk You Friday tomorrow.. I finally get to play!!

Flying and Dying and a Severe Lack of Valium

So about that trip this weekend.. I’m excited, except that I hate flying, and I forgot to get a prescription for Valium from my doctor. And that would all be okay, except that Bean hates flying too.

I’m really nervous, because this could be a defining moment in our marriage.

See, there have been an assload of times when I was terrified of something, like any time we’ve ever driven over a bridge or when we drove to Colorado.
But every time I’ve been terrified, Bean wasn’t, because he’s all strong & stoic and stuff. So he was able to comfort me, and calm me down, and tell me that we weren’t going to die.

This time, he’s going to be uncomfortable too. I’m sure he’ll still be outwardly stoic, but will he be able to calm my crazy ass down??

Will he be able to tell me that we’re not going to die when he really thinks that we are going to die??

What the hell is my reaction going to be if he does tell me the truth - that we’re going to die??



P.S. - I've left all of my passwords where Miley can find them, so if when I die on the plane, she can post my eulogy.

She’ll be Screamin’ Round the Mountain When She Comes

The whole Switzerland Colorado trip has me thinking about my first experience going there, and it was one of those things that was NOT funny to me, but probably was fucking hilarious to everyone else.

I drove us the whole 18 hours to get there, because Bean was still pretty sick. And I’m from Houston. We don’t have hills much less mountains.

For most of the drive I was fine. I like to drive on roadtrips. But then we got to Raton Pass.

Me: Why do they have the pictures of rocks on the side of the road??

Bean: That’s to tell you to watch out for falling boulders

Me: Excuse me?!?!

Bean: It’s okay honey. There won’t be any falling boulders.

Me Ok.

Me: What do the signs about crosswinds mean??

Bean: Ummmm…..

Me: What?!?!

Bean: Well, they mean that, um, the crosswinds are sometimes strong enough to knock over an eighteen wheeler. But-they-are-not-that-strong-tonight-so-don’t-worry.

Me: A FUCKING EIGHTEEN WHEELER COULD BE KNOCKED OFF OF THE STUPID FUCKING MOUNTAIN!!!!! THE SAME ONE THAT YOU ARE HAVING ME DRIVE ON?!?!?!?!?

Bean: Baby, it’s the only way to get to BFE. It’s gonna be fine. You’re doing great.

Me (starting to cry): Ok…… DOES THAT FUCKING SIGN SAY MOOSE CROSSING?!?!?!? THE MOOSES CAN NOT CROSS!!!!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!! IS THAT A FUCKING MOOSE ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD?!?!?!?! IT IS!!!!!!!! BEAN, TELL THE FUCKING MOOSE TO STAY PUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bean: The mooses are staying, baby. It’s okay. You’re doing great.

Me (tears now streaming down my face): I AM NOT DOING GREAT!!!!! I’M GOING TO DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Serious Sunday

I really don’t like bitching about my horrible existence here, because it really puts a damper on the fun, but a girl’s gotta bitch somewhere, right??

So I’m thinking, Sundays. Sundays can be serious, and the rest of the week will just be crazy ole’ me. I’m really hoping that most of the time it’s like when you get your head stuck in the toilet seat – you know, NOT funny for you, but everyone else thinks its fucking hilarious, but we’ll see.

Ya’ll I need a shrink, bad.

If last week’s meltdown wasn’t enough to convince me, then there’s no hope.

But I don’t have a shrink, and I don’t have a lot of extra time, either I’ve got the kids or I’m ferrying them where they need to be so that I can not have the kids. Where in that am I going to put an appointment?? I don’t have time to screw around with the wrong kind of shrink for me, I need to pre-screen that shit.

So, as is my way, I concocted an imaginary conversation that I need to have with perspective shrinks’ receptionists..

Receptionist: Hello Shrink's office!

Me: Hi, I need a shrink, but I need you to answer a couple of questions before I decide if you're shrink is the shrink for me.

Receptionist: Umm.. ok??

Me: Can I cuss to you shrink, not at him, just to him? I mean, is he easily offended?

Receptionist: Umm.. I suppose??

Me: Ok, and is he pro crazy monkey sex??

Receptionist: I'm sorry??

Me: I mean, not that I'm a sex addict, because I'm not, I just really like sex, and I want a shrink who approves of that.. Fuck. I sound like a sex addict. Nevermind.

See the problem here??

The Socially Neurotic and Afraid of Rejection Bloggers Group

First of all, I need to apologize for anything and everything I said today. It's been one of those days that reminds me why I need to find a good shrink and a prescription for valium.

See, my friend Miley is a member of Studio 30 Plus, and she has nothing but good things to say about them, and she totally loves it. I think it’s totally cool, and I’ve looked around the site a little, happy that Miley has a group, but I’m not 30, I can’t join. Oh look, butterflies!! And I didn’t really think about it again, until today.

I was snooping through some blogs and found one that looked cool, except that the author is crafty, and I don’t understand crafty people. So I was about to leave when I saw that Crafty Lady is a member of 20 Something Bloggers!!

So I thought, That is so cool!! I can join that group, because I am 20 something!!

That’s when it started, my crazy totally kicked in and thoughts started flying..

But will they kick me out in a year when I turn 30?? Because then I would be sad. I just shouldn’t join the 20 Something Bloggers.

Maybe I can join the 30 Plus group, because I am very close to being 30??

But if those 30 Plus bloggers found out that I’m not 30 yet, would they kick me out?? Because then I would be sad and I wouldn’t be able to be in any groups then because the 40 Something bloggers want to kill me. I still can’t join the 30 Plus bloggers.

But if I joined the 20 Something Bloggers, that I belong with, will they like me?? Am I too crazy for them?? Maybe I am. Maybe that’s why I don’t have many friends who are 20 Something. They will hate me, and then they will want to kill me just like 40 Something Bloggers. I’m not going to join.

Fuck!! I want a group!! Is there a Crazy Ladies Who Don’t Want to be in the Other Groups group?? Or perhaps a Socially Neurotic and Afraid of Rejection group?? Because I think I want those groups.

Double fuck. I can’t find the Crazy Ladies Who Don’t Want to be in the Other Groups group or the Socially Neurotic and Afraid of Rejection group. Can I make them?? How do I make them??

Damn Crafty Lady!! I was all accepting of my lack of a group until you came along, and now I want to cry about my grouplessness.

I would like to point out, for the record, that this neurotic breakdown is not my fault. Miley is in a different time zone, so I can’t call her because it confuses me to call across time zones, I never know if it’s a good time to call or if it’s 3AM, and she’s been gone forever, and I need her to be my brain.
Also, when I finally did text her, she was all “you can never join the 30 Something blog group because you just celebrated your last birthday” (I’m not turning 30, I’m staying 29 forever), so now I’m ready to cry because I didn’t think of that..
But don’t worry, I told her that she’s not allowed to be in a different time zone than me anymore, so this shouldn’t happen again.

Do We Have a Case of the Mondays??

Today is very Monday, and I’m exhausted. I want to sleep at my desk, but I can’t because my boss hates me.

So I’ve been considering jumping off the balcony because that would be good for at least 2 days off, and if I broke every bone in my body then the bigger children adults that live with me might be forced to actually work. It’s a novel concept.

I even almost called Miley to ask her if this was a good plan, but then I remembered that she sucks and she’s taking a stupid wonderful vacation with her children and her amazingly hot just-a-friend, so she probably doesn’t want to be bothered.

So I just imagined the conversation, because really anyone else I asked about this would probably try to lock me up and that’s no good.

In my imagined conversation, Miley told me that I was fucking nuts and explained how much broken bones hurt (because with the exception of a little toe, I actually wouldn’t know), and then she told me how I would really have to miss more than 2 days of work, because if I broke any bones used for walking I’d be screwed with my not-handicap-accessible work place.

My imaginary self only heard the part about missing more than 2 days, and thought that would be fucking awesome.

Imaginary Miley then pointed out how I don’t have enough sick or vacation time to cover all of that, so I’d be poor.

Damn you logical imaginary person.

Practice Makes Perfect

**DISCLAIMER**

My potty mouth really ran away with me during this post.. I'd really like to apologize, but you did, after all, come here of your own free will..

I am absolutely convinced that talking to yourself is like pot. Everyone's done it, but not everyone admits they have.
I'll admit it (on both counts, talking to myself & trying pot - though for the record, it was only twice but I did inhale).
I talk to myself all the time. I like to think of it as personal pep talks, but alot of times it's rehearsing for imaginary conversations.
For instance, if I'm on my way home from work and I've gotten an email from Oliver's teacher that says he threw a chair and then he skipped class (that last part has never happened, the first part has, several times - my boy has anger management issues), I might want to rehearse for the conversation I know is coming. Because honestly, what I really want to say goes something like this:

Me: Oliver, what the fuck is the matter with you, why did you go ape-shit on your teacher?!?! I think I will have to take your flat screen TV, and X-box 3 and put them in my room as punishment, you'll have to make do with my big-ass TV and Super Nintendo. Now maybe next time you'll think about it before you decide to act like an evil little shit.

But I totally realize that I can't call my son an evil little shit, and I probably shouldn't say "WTF?" to him either. Thus the rehearsal.*

Other times I practice for conversations that I know are almost certainly never going to happen. Like today. My bitch, I mean sister**, is in town and asked Mom and the kids to go to a movie and then dinner with her. I really don't like the idea of the kids spending time with her. Not only because I don't trust her, but also because I hate that they think she's nice and that she cares about them. I hate knowing that at some point she is going to hurt them.

But I wasn't off of work yet when Mom needed to leave and if she really wants to torture herself by spending time with the evil bitch then I should be supportive. So the kids are with her as I type, and on my way home from work, I practiced what I would say to her if she were speaking to me, it went something like this:

Me: Amara, I really don't know what your problem is, since you've never bothered to actually tell me, but I pity you. You have surrounded yourself with all of these wonderful people who don't know you. They know you're sweet and funny and caring and all of that bull-shit, but they don't know the insane and vindictive things you are capable of. You only have one friend that actually knows you and you don't even like her that much.
You have cut yourself off from your family and embraced your in-laws like they are some kind of saints. I don't get it. You MIL is a slut, and your FIL is a snob (and also kindof slutty) but you think they're fantabulous. How the hell are they better than our Mom?? At least she never deliberately hurt us.
You're a sorry piece of shit, and I don't want you around my kids anymore. You can't have your cake and eat it too, you have to pick. If you want to be one big happy fucking family you have to acknowledge my husband and apologize to me. If not then fuck off.

Unfortunately, she's not speaking to me, so I will never get to deliver my diatribe, and when we see each other at family functions, she puts on a great show, so that the whole family thinks I'm the problem. It pisses me off, obviously. But really, if I'm being honest, it's probably a good thing she's not speaking to me, because I get very doormatty with her, so if we did talk it would probably go like this:

Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! I miss you.

* I promise that I'm not THAT bad of a mother. I would never actually say that to Oliver. I would eventually come up with something very stern, yet supportive and ground him (unless he chose to be beaten, in which case, who am I to argue??)
** I haven't had a normal conversation with my sister, Amara, since the week before Perry moved out. Don't ask why, because I don't actually know, when I asked she said that I was "too sick to understand and she wouldn't talk to me until I got some help". I have never so much as touched my nephew and neither he nor my niece know who I am. I suspect that our evil, vindictive, back-stabbing, self-serving and very bi-polar cousin is fueling the fire, and I'm fairly certain that her husband, Mr. Incredible is thrilled.

Crazy-er and Hallucinations

I think I may be going crazy-er.

Last night I was locking up the house before going to bed, and I locked the deadbolt on the back door (which Bean cannot unlock from the outside) and then I turned around to head for bed. But halfway to the bedroom I realized what I had done, turned around, went back and unlocked that particular deadbolt, then went to bed for real.

But this morning, Bean was locked out of the house because that deadbolt was locked and the other lock on the door was not.

So I don't know if something happened in the middle of the night to make that lock locked (like Mom got up for some reason and locked it or I sleepwalked and locked it or someone broke into my house & locked it then climbed out a window - you notice how these theories are getting progressively scarier) or if I hallucinated the whole unlocking process.

It sucks to be crazy sometimes.

Why I'm Crazy

This is my first serious boyfriend ever - he now does musical theater in his free time. Too bad noone mentioned to him that traditionally men play men, and women play women (and they also wear clothes). I guess there's not alot of selection in Montana.



And you wonder why I'm scarred and crazy??

Mad

Lately Oliver and I have become a little obsessed with "Alice in Wonderland".
He is because there's movie hype, and I always have been, he's just bringing it out and there's more stuff available, again, because of movie hype.

Last night the kids and I began the second half of a really good version of "Alice in Wonderland". It aired as a mini-series back in the stone age (according to my angels), but I really liked it then, and I like it better now.

This was an actual conversation during the credits:

Oliver: That's the Mad Hatter.

Tallulah: Why do they call him that?

Oliver: Because he's mad and he wears a hat.

mischevious pause

Oliver: Did you know that "mad" can mean two things? It can mean really angry or it can mean crazy like Mommy. If I had to pick, I'd rather be really angry.