Pretty in Pink

Saturday Bean bought me my Christmas/birthday present (as I mentioned) - a pink laptop.

I love it. Alot.

And Perry actually did some good (and told the truth) and showed me how to tether my phone to it so that I can get internet anywhere..

So here I am at work & blogging.

Aren't you thrilled??

I am.

Things I Don't Do

This week I'm exploring my girliness, so I thought I'd make a list of all the things I don't do that maybe people think I should to be a self-sufficient person (because I'm anal meticulous like that).

I don't do cars. As in check oil or fluid or change tires.

I don't do taping - like around the edges when I paint.

I don't do yard work. At least not if I can help it.

I don't do grilling.

I don't fix things - like leaky pipes or clogged toilets or broken lights.

And I realize that some of you are reading this thinking "what a lightweight!!" or something similar, but let me explain..

I have 13 male cousins who all live in the greater Houston area and I only share them with 2 other girls (Amara doesn't count because she lives in Austin).

I have 4 Uncles.

Many guy friends.

Several incredibly capable girlfriends.

Perry - who likes to prove his manliness by doing shit around my house.

Alien - who is actually relatively handy.

Pa - who is a carpenter.

And Bean, who will do just about anything I ask him to.

So why the hell would I ever need to learn these things??

Yes, I realize that taping is ridiculously easy, but for some reason I do a craptastic job and everything I tape looks like shit. Plus it takes me years to tape a wall. So yeah, I could do it. Or - I could call Perry who does a much better job than I do in a quarter of the time.

Do you understand now??

It's not about being the helpless girl. Its about understanding my limits.

I know that I wouldn't do these things well, and I have many people around me who can do them better and faster and without breaking something - like their foot - so I leave these things to the experts, who almost all just happen to be men.

Blog Fodder or A Million Lies and No Truth

I'm coming to realize that I bitch about my starter husband Perry a lot on here.

It's not really because I'm bitter, it's because I have to see him so damn much with him having the kids pretty much half of the time and having them at my house and all.

So I thought I'd explain that I really do have shit to bitch about..

• Perry doesn't shower. Or at least he only did about once a week when we were married (if I was lucky).
• He's a compulsive liar.
• Because he's a compulsive liar I don't know if my daughter is deathly allergic to shellfish and beestings or if he's pulling that shit out of his ass.
• And when I say compulsive liar I mean that for the first year of our marriage I thought he was an Army veteran.
• Turns out he flunked out of boot camp.
• He bullys Oliver.
• Mercilessly.
• His mother is insane.
• By insane I mean that she believes that the Air Force has a special contingent of planes that fly around her house looking out for her.
• And she calls CPS on people when she gets bored.
• He's irrationally obsessed with image and wealth (or at least the illusion of it).
• This combined with his only nodding aquaintance with the truth has some interesting results.
• As in he will tell people that whatever he has or was or did was so high class, when it really wasn't.
• It's actually really kind of funny to watch.
• I'm pretty sure he's in the closet.
• So is just about everyone else who's ever met him.
• He trashes our house everytime he's here. Which is Wednesday, Thursday and every other weekend.
• So I have to spend my time with the kids cleaning up his mess.
• He also randomly moves shit.
• Though I'm pretty sure he only does that to see if he can push me over the edge into certifiable insanity as opposed to mildly mad.
• He's rude to Bean.
• He doesn't have any clue how to help with homework or school projects, and doesn't remember to have the kids do either on his days.
• He pronounces "gay" "gee".

Now do you see??

There's just so much to bitch about, I can't help myself.

It's like he's got a sign on his back that says:

Blog Fodder

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.

Thank God It's Friday and Stick Shifts Suck

Please excuse my typos today.. blogging from my phone sucks ass.

Even though it was a 4 day week, its been long, and I'm so glad its Friday.

So - because of a very long story we did a car swap with a friend of mine and she's got my Pt Cruiser (which is an automatic), and I was supposed to have Perry's car (also an automatic) and Perry was going to have Bean's truck (a standard) and Bean's been driving my friends sweet little sporty car (also a standard).

But Perry's a dickwhistle and kept complaining and wanting gas money and just being a whiny little bitch, even though I have let him have one of our cars during his numerous car repairs and helping out my friend (who I met while we were married and he likes) is good Christian helpfulness.

I got tired of listening to it and dealing with it.

So last Friday Perry was over with the kids and the truck and I decided to fuck it all and teach myself how to drive the truck.

Let me be clear though - I have attempted to learn to drive a stick shift twice. Once with Perry about 10 years ago, but he starting crying (almost literally) when I stalled and didn't shift perfectly after 2 minutes behind the wheel of his precious Corolla. And once with Bean about a year ago, but it was in a moderately full and small parking lot and it made me nervous.
I've known the theory for a good 15 years from my bitchy cousin Mia's super awesome husband. He drove an old Beetle and let me shift and all that good stuff. Mr. Mia's cool. Especially when you're 15 and he's kinda hot.


Anyway, so I plopped my ass in the truck and stalled five times before I managed to move took off. I will say that I look hot in a truck, but not so much when I'm spluttering down the road.

The whole weekend I drove around with the kids in the "backseat" screaming "We're gonna die!!" - which we were not in any danger of at the time. However this week driving it in rush hour traffic I kinda was. Every other morning in my PT there are no broke down vehicles in the middle of the freeway or stop and go bullshit. But now that I can't stop without stalling, EVERY SINGLE MORNING there's been something. Its like Murphys Law or something.

And I almost always kill it coming into our fucked up parking lot that of course has a driveway that's on an incline.

AND that's not even mentioning my performance anxiety whenever there's anyone behind me at a light or a stop sign.. that's good for at least 3 stalls - more if the douchecanoe's up my ass.

I get my gorgeous baby back next week, and I can't wait.

Saint Bean

I alluded to this a bit yesterday bu today you're getting the full story.

Thursday, Bean was sharpening Tallulah's pencils for Supply Drop-off Night,

All 3 Million of them.

Perry walked by.

Keep in mind, we are all in Bean and My house.

Our house.

Not Perry's house.

The house that Perry chose not to live in anymore when he chose not to work on our marriage anymore.

The house that he knew I would bodily throw him out of when he busted out that obelisk that broke the camel's back of our marriage.

The one that Bean moved into.

The one that Bean has made into a home again.

That's the house we were in.



So he walks by Bean sharpening 3 million of his daughter's pencils to take to school and he says:

So you finally found a job suited to your education level?


I'll wait while you pick your jaw up off the floor.






I'll wait a little longer while you sputter and cuss.





Bean didn't hit him.

I didn't hit him. Or yell at him, or back him into a corner and have him begging me to stop berating him within an inch of his life. (I've done that to him before, and I'm only using a little hyperbole).

Though if you can picture Bean bodily holding me, while my feet kicked uselessly at the air and my hands morphed into claws, you're not far off.

Neither of us said a fucking word.

But you know what, Perry??

Don't ask me for gas money again.

Do You Have To Be So Blunt??

Perry was over on Wednesday for his visitation with the kids and Bean was working, so I was helping Perry make dinner for the kids and trying to be sociable, because that's what grown-up, mature divorced parents do - or so I'm told.

And whenever I do something like that I try to make conversation about something completely innocuous that could never in any way be construed as being related to:

1. An attack on his parenting.

2. An attack on his manliness.

3. A comment on our crappy marriage.

4. A comment on my new wonderful marriage.

5. A comparison between my new wonderful marriage and our old crappy marriage.

6. His crazy family.

This week I chose Rowlf. He's losing his nuts next week.

And of course anytime two grown-ups (or two people in general) are having a conversation Oliver feels the need to eavesdrop.

Me: Rowlf is getting his nuts chopped off next Wednesday.

Perry:??

Oliver:WHAT??

Me: Bean's taking Rowlf to get his nuts chopped off next Wednesday. Do you want him to take you next Thurday now that we know where to go?

Oliver: NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Perry: Jenn, do you have to be so blunt? The word is neutered.

Me: So, Oliver, was that no for Rowlf's nuts or for yours??

I didn't answer Perry, because really it wasn't worth it, but I'd like to take this opportunity to answer him.

Yes, Perry, in MY kitchen while eating MY food and talking to MY children, I do have to be that blunt. And really is "neutered" so much of a better word?? At least my choice of words completely describes exactly what the procedure is going to be instead of using euphemisms and other malarkey to make someone feel better about what they're doing to their animal.

I am chopping the nuts off of my beloved dog. I signed a fucking contract saying that I would chop the nuts off of said dog before I could buy him for a third of what he was worth, and people are paying ridiculous amounts of money for what are essentially mutts - but I really wanted one. So those bad boys are coming off. But you know what?? I'd chop them off even if I didn't have a contract, because my boy still squats to pee, and he doesn't mark any territory and I like it that way.


How's that for blunt, Perry?? And you know what?? You can take your comments, your euphemisms, and your malarkey right on over to Fawk You Friday.

Fawk You Friday

Yeah, I totally did 2 different Friday Follow posts - I wouldn't want to offend any sticks in the mud who happen along accidentally.

Fawk you Perry. I'm not married to you any more. My groceries are not your groceries. Maybe you should think about bringing your own fucking food over to my house. It wouldn't kill you - you're a fucking architect and I'm a secretary for fucks sake - I promise you make more money than me.

Fawk you Amara and Mom. I made plans for my children and I'm not changing them just so that Amara can bless them with her presence.

Fawk you stupid movie that made no sense (AKA The Handmaid's Tale). You made me need to read the book version and it's pretty fucked up and disturbing when you're as neurotic as I am.

Fawk you Mr. My Favorite Author's Son. I'm thrilled that you took over your mom's series - really I am, because she's getting pretty old. But really do you have to make so many convoluted 3+ people sexual relationships?? I mean, yeah, it's kind of kinky, but if this is how you think, I believe you need to move over to romance.

Fawk you Dr. No Personality. You gave me an unlimited supply of vicodin for my headaches, but you won't give me anything for weightloss when I've gained 40 lbs in 7 months for no apparant reason AND you agree with me that I need to lose weight??

Vacation Part 1 - My InHuman Self Control

Ugh..

Well, since I’ve last been diligent with my blogging, I’ve been very busy. I’ll break it down into manageable portions for you, because it’s kind of a long story.

First of course was the trip to Switzerland Colorado.

Obviously, I didn’t die.

But the flights to and fro and all things baggage related were horrendous. We’ll start with the nightmare of just getting the bags to the airport.


Bean picked me up from work, and on the way to the airport, I got a call from Perry (ex-husband) screaming at me asking me where his bags for the weekend were.

How the fuck am I supposed to know?? I was at work all day. Why don’t you look up your ass??

No, I didn’t say that. I told him I didn’t know, and maybe he should look around.
He called back when were looking for parking and told me he thought we had his bags. I turned around and he was right.

Here’s where my superb self-control started to kick in.

Not once did I call Bean an idiot for grabbing the wrong bags. Even though I specifically told him that he had a black suitcase and Perry has a massive black duffel bag and Bean carries his little carryon bag with him to work every day. So you’d think that he would know that it’s not Perry’s laptop case.

I also did not call Perry a fucktard for putting his bags down right next to Bean’s when he knew that we were leaving for the airport that afternoon or for waiting to call until we were almost to the airport instead of right after Bean left the house.


So we turned around and went home for the bag exchange. And I shit you not, when I asked Perry to get things together for the swap, he actually asked me:


Does this suitcase need to be zipped?


And people wonder why I divorced the dickwhistle.

I Have the Coolest Son Ever or How I Failed Horribly

I took Oliver over to Alien's today. (Alien being Oliver's father, it's a really long story, but biologically speaking Oliver is not Perry's son). And Alien was talking about how Oliver needs to start doing "guy things" - obviously I said yes, and explained how that's not my department, Perry's a pussy (which Alien totally agreed with) and Bean hurts (another really long story), but Alien is more than welcome to take over.
Then we left and Oliver and I were talking in the car.

Me: Alien wants to take you to do "guy stuff", would that be okay with you??

Oliver: Yeah!! Because you know, I've lived with females my whole life.

Me: What about Dad??

Oliver: Well, he's a shemale.

This is the point where I failed horribly, because I shouldn't have laughed at that, but it was fucking hysterical. Mostly because I'm pretty sure he's right.

Fun with Perry

If you've met me, then you know that I am NOT a morning person. And when it comes to my ex-husband, Perry, I'm not an afternoon or evening person either.


But his car broke down this week and if I help him out then he has more money to give me. So I've been sharing a car with him for the last two days (because naturally he couldn't have a broken car when Bean was off, because that might be convenient).


Now, I should not be allowed to be in the same zip code with Perry without at least two cups of VERY strong coffee in my system, and I just don't have time for that before work, so 6:15 is a freaking nightmare.


And then after work on Wednesday, we went to get Subway for dinner. Don't get me wrong, the Subway Sandwich Artist was a moron (or maybe she was just REALLY hard of hearing) and she didn't understand anything I said to her. But as soon as we got back in the car he was telling me about how she tried to make him pay twice.


What?? I was standing right there. She didn't do that. She just gave you a vacant smile and said "Huh??". Do you think that telling me some crazy version of events will change MY memory of it??


Oh, and then there was the conversation where he was telling me how dumb all the interns in his office are - he's a freaking intern*!!

Ugh. At least this week has been a very apt reminder (that I didn't need) of exactly why I divorced his sorry ass.


So incidentally, I've been feeling a little homocidal.




*He's still an intern because he has been putting off taking his tests for the last THREE years - someone tell me please what is the point of going to school for EIGHT FLIPPING YEARS if you're not going to get the license?!?!