Wednesday, July 22, 2009

On the Road Again

If you know mysuestories at all (and by now, you should, dear reader), you know that I prance to the beat of a different oboe...I just don't like to be doing what the rest of the world is doing. In the movie "Midnight Express"? I am the only person cheering Billy Jack on as he walks around the pole counter clockwise. I do live on the edge, huh?

Anyway..while most of the blogging world is heading to Chicago to attend Blog Her (even the Hims that blog are all going!), where everyone will trade all the latest in techno secrets as they text each other on their gadgety new fangled phones while sipping mojitos.....I shall be heading to the land of no. As in no t.v., no cable, no cell phone service, and (gak) no Internet connection.

A nice cushy childLESS stay in a suite hotel was a bit much to ask for. Oh, no, not me. I opted (Options? I had options?) to camp in the mountains (Lions and Tigers and Bears oh MY!) with the family and forty of our nearest and dearest.
(a.k.a. - AmIoutofmyf@ckingmind?!!!)

Whats' five hours smushed in a car with complete strangers humping all my shit so I can unpack it in a rustic setting and sleep on rocks for the love of Christ?

But THIS is when I realized just how long this weekend was really gonna be.

mysuestories: "Er, mountain man? Who ARE all those strangers in the back seat?"
mountain man: "mysuestories, I'd like to REintroduce you to our kids."
mysuestories: "Even the short one with the game stick thingy growing out of his hands?"
mountain man: "Gamester, say hello to your mother."
gamester: "Hi mother. "
mysuestories: to mountain man "Are you sure he's one of ours?"
mountain man: sighs heavily...."This week will be good for all of us."

Yeh. Nothing like sleeping in the great outdoors worrying about bear attacks and falling rock territory. I don't think I could out run a bear in the sorry shape I'm in these days.

mysuestories: "Er, mountain man? Did you pack any snacks and chips and dip?"
mountain man: "Of course. I know what you like." He sure does, and it usually comes wrapped in foi with a fat content label of over 30%, protein 0%. No sense dieting now. Too late to train to run from that bear.
mysuestories: "Er, mountain man? Did you pack any honey?"
He nods.
Great!!! If I can't out run the bear, I'll just coat one of those strangers in the backseat with honey. Then I only have to out run that one kid......Genius. Pure genius.

See ya in a few days. Hopefully. Sigh.

Friday, July 17, 2009

You Take My Breath Away

Woe, faithful reader. As in woe is me.
I have been missing amongst the blogosphere, and I have returned to you all with the requisite doctor's note.

"Dear Constant Reader(s),
Please forgive mysuestories' abscence from the blogiverse of late. She has been doing a lot
of breathing lately.
The Doctor who Nearly Killed Her With Her Own Breath

Yeh. It's been that kind of week.

It all started last week, when I started waking up in the middle of the night with a little cough and a throat tickle.

"Mountain man? Are you awake?" I scooted over to his side of the bed, carefully placing my icy cold feet on his back. The desired effect has occurred. Mountain man half leaps off the bed, unaware why.
"Huh? Whassamatta?" he manages.
"I can't sleep. Did you hear me coughing?" I then cough for effect. It comes out more as a throat clear than a cough, but hey, he's still half asleep.
" I didn't hear anything. I was sleeping."
That's another thing about mysuestories manor. When I can't sleep? Neither can he. It just seems selfish on his behalf, no?

"Well, I was coughing. And there's tickle in my throat..." I complain continue.
At his non-responsive, once again snoring form while I am awake(!!!) I half nudge him toward the edge of the bed.
"Huh? Whassamatta?" he grumbles again.
" I was telling you how I can't sleep. You know, 'cause of this *cough* cough."
" Why don't you just go back to sleep?"
Seriously? Now why didn't I think of that? Oh. Yeh. "CAUSE THE COUGHING IS KEEPING ME AWAKE!!!!"

Not to worry, oh loyal reader. The mountain man proceeded to get plenty of rest that night, as he went right the f*ck back to sleep! I, on the other hand, spent the next three nights catching a lot of late night infomercials between coughs. (Side note- have ya ever noticed that EVERY SINGLE item sold solely on t.v. -before it gets to the "As Seen On T.V. " section of Walgreens- every item has the same shipping and handling fee of just $6.95. Yep. Just $6.95 to have anything from the latest in Ginsu Knives technology to a new mattress delivered to your door--Be dialing, people!!!!)
After three nights of coughing, (and subsequently waking the mountain man each. and. every. time.), he became concerened over his inability to get a good night's sleep my health.
"Mysuestories, it's time to see a doctor."
"Doctor? Why would I need a doctor?" I replied.
"Because you're sick and I care about you deeply! I can't get any sleep!"
" That's not true, mountain man. I know this because I have had the dubious job of watching you sleep while I am up all night coughing."
"AND you're coughing because YOU ARE SICK!! " Now, I ask you, constant reader, what kind of loving man yells at his beloved when she is obviously sleep depived and denying she is sick to begin with?

Two days (and long Billy Mays filled nights) later, mountain man calls me at work to tell me he has made an appointment for me, to see our doctor that evening at 4:15 p.m.
"But, mountain man, I am not sick!!!"
"Good. Then that's what the doctor (whom I haven't seen in over four years!) will tell you!"
" But, mountain man," I whined. Yeh. I whine. So shoot me. I even whine while I wine. Then again, most wine drinkers do. "I can't possibly make a 4:15 appointment. I won't be home from work tioll at least 4:30..." because at this point? Yeh. No way I was leaving work fifteen minutes early to get to some doctor's appointment I didn't even need!
"I, saviour of the New World and all things Holy, shall go to the doctor's office and sign you in and wait for YOUR appointment . Then YOU can casually show up 20 minutes later as they are ready to call your name." he stated.

Apparently I was not to wiggle out of this too easily.
"Fine. I'll be there," I conceded. But come the end of the day? I left work fifteen minutes later than usual...making me 30 minutes late for the appointment, and hopefully edged out of my time slot!
I arrived at 4:45 for my 4:15 appointment and found the mountain man dutifully sitting in a chair in the waiting room for me. Along with FIVE other patients. Four of whom had been there BEFORE the moutain man arrived at 4:00. (He's a stickler for punctuality, my man, he is!)

Fifteen minutes later, 3 Emergency Medical Technicians come bursting through the outer door, trailing a mobile cot and half of our local volunteer fire department. (It must have been a slow fire day.)
It appears the patient who was holding up the rest of us went into anaphylactic shock from taking someone else's antibiotics inside one of the exam rooms! I mean, just how inconsiderate can one person be? He could have just gone to the emergency room....or suffered silently at home...but no, let's inconvenience all us sick people (Yeh. Once I've already gone to the inconvenience of going to the doctor, I am officially sick).

At SIX O'CLOCK, I am finally called in to see the doctor for my appointment. You know, the appointment that was for 4:15.

Breathe in, breathe out...Blow in to this machine...Suck on this inhaler. Breathe again. Deeply. one more time. By the time I left there, I was all out of breaths. Shit, couldn't they see I was sickly? Jeez.

One chest X ray, a breathing treatment, a steriod prescription, an inhaler, and a script for cough medicine with coedine (SCORE!!!) and I was on my way home.

At 7 pm, I was resting comfortably on my couch, having downed a good couple of swigs from the cough medicine. Yep, it may take me a whole week of just sitting on this couch *cough*cough*, letting the mountain man wait on me...*cough*cough* "I'm so thirsty." "Gee, I could use another pillow..."
I'll teach him to tell me I'm sick!!!!

Friday, July 10, 2009

It Shoulda Been A Drive In

I must apologize for my lack of posting lately, however, mysuestories has been robbed. Yes, faithful reader, I have been assaulted as severely as any cashew at the Planter's factory. I, constant follower, have been raped, if you will. F*cked, really. Without benefit of alcohol or lubricant, either.

The dirty scoundrel responsible for this bestial attack? Female, punk-cut pink short hair, aged 16 -18, and smirking with indifference. Her weapon of choice? A cash register at the local cinema. Her ransom? Movie tickets to Ice Age 3-D.

Yeh. I got screwed at the movies. And not only did I have a child with me, I wasn't even sitting in the balcony!

The mountain man and I decided to take the gaming addict to a movie after work this evening, since Camp Mountain Man seems to consist of doing laundry and shooting at the neighbor's chickens with a BB gun. (Archery- the art of shooting arrows at the neighbor's chickens begins next week- We are thatwell rounded here!)

So, I unsuspectingly skip up to the movie counter and kindly ask for two adult and one child ticket. I was gonna ask for a senior ticket for the mountain man, but I kinda figured that might put the kibbutz on the pretzels and spicy cheese sauce I was hoping he'd spring for!

So the pink haired rebel without paws asks for $23.00, and hands me some movie stubs and send us to the red velvet rope police standing just four feet away. (Really. Little Miss I Hate My Life and Having to Serve Mere Mortals for A Living could have just waved us through eliminating the need for that extra salaried Keeper of The Red Velvet Rope.

Anyway, we approach the Keeper of the Red Velvet rope, who informs me that we; mountain man, gamester, and mysuestories; are a party of three. Rocket scientists, here, huh? Red Velvet Rope Keeper, who now looks like she should be wielding a scythe informs me that I am holding only TWO tickets.

I look down. The crypt keeper's twin is right. We retreat four feet back to Little Miss Sunshine Before Adolescence Set In, and I point to the two ticket stubs, and say
"Excuse me, Miss My Parents Hate Me, but you only gave me TWO tickets. We, (as the Red Velvet Rope Protector has pointed out), are a party of THREE."

To which this spawn of the devil and all things frugal states," That will be another $13.50."
"But I already paid $23.00!" mysuestories exclaimed!!!!!
To which Little Miss I'd Rather Slice Layers Of Skin Off of My Body Rather than Have to Talk to Idiots Like You says, " That was for one adult and one child ticket."
Yeh. Even though we are clearly THREE. And the sign on the counter states that adult tickets are only $10.50.
I show Little Miss I Would Rather Massacre You Than look At You One More Time the sign. "But adult tickets are only $10.50", I squeak. I am now positive this Emo/Slasher is scamming three bucks off each ticket sale to buy the latest mercenary gear from the back pages of Soldier of Fortune magazine, and I, mysuestories, in my pursuit for liberty and justice for all in the name of three dollars have just put my family on the top of her to do list.
"Ma'am," she croaks out with a draeaded eye roll (Note to reader: There is nothing I hate more than being called "Ma'am", except for being called "Ma'am" with na accompanying eyeroll!) "Ma'am, $10.50 is for regular movies. It's $13.50 for "3-D" movies." And she proceeds to point to the same sign that I had used to correct her.

And there, right under the $10.50 for adults, it read $13.50 for "3-D".
I coughed up (quite literally) another $13.50 and we were than granted access to the theatre beyond the Red Velvet Rope Taker.

"Geez, mysuestories," spoke the love of my life, the yin to my yang," isn't $36.50 an awful lot of money for you to pay for a movie?"
Yeh, thanks mountain man. It is. I could spend a lot less than that in a bar and have my way with him in the bedroom after. And at least I (and he) would know what was in store. And none of it would involve androgenous pink haired punks with authority issues.

Instead, I said something akin to, "Not to worry, mountain man. Just spending quality time with you and the kid is priceless."
He smiled, all lovey dovey like.

Then I led him to the snack counter and proceeded to order $40.00 worth of munchies and pretzels with spicy cheese sauce. His treat. 'Cause I'm thoughtful like that!

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Scratch This Itch!!!!!!

We are a "big box store" family. We buy, eat , and shit in bulk. (Why else would any store sell toilet paper rolls in sets of 62?) With three boys (men? Man childs? At what age do they become adults in their own right?) plus the mountain man and myself, big lot stores are definitely a big part of our shopping experience. Why buy one pound of ravioli when you can purchase seven pounds all in one bag?

Point being, there is good justification for shopping for detergents by the barrel full. Many a family makes good use of reduced pricing in exchange for using that extra bedroom as a storage closet. I mean, where the hell am I supposed to store eight packages of 1000 count napkins, anyway?

On the flip side of my own little argument here (Argument? Who was arguing? - I was, dammit, now shut up and slink back into the far reaches of my mind, you meddling disorder, you!)----- Sorry, I digress....

As beneficial as buying rice by the ton is for families such as ours, there ought to be some rules to accompany membership into the gluttony purchasing club. For example, if you are single and over the age of seventy, it ought to be considered elder abuse for management to cash that $50.00 membership fee.

Case in point... This past weekend, the mysuestories clan were fortunate enough to have been invited to revel in the gloriousness of the Fourth of July at a dear friend's house. Said friend, Joe, is approaching ninety and lives alone.(And he throws a helluva party!-Again, irrelevant but we did have a great time! Nobody can party like a bunch of retired seniors with no where to go for, oh say, about six months-)

At one point, (some where between five Bud lights and two Bahama Mama's -hey, I'm patriotic- I was celebrating--- Not to mention helping to stimulate the economy of our local neighborhood liquor outlet!---Hey, don't judge. ) I excused myself to the bathroom. While in the bathroom, I did what gracious guests every where do, I sized up the room. And was I rewarded with a tidbit upon which to ponder while I was, um, er, pondering? I was. Upon the sink's counter I spied this:
From New Window

(And yes, I do take my camera with me every where, even the loo.- Hey, one never knows when something blog picture worthy will occur!)
Yep. A brand spanking new 10 pack of toothbrushes. For a ninety year old. At 1 new brush every six months? Shit, he and his pearly whites will probably be brushing right up at the pearly gates! With a few to spare!!!! Ya gotta love the optimism, though.

So, later that evening, as I share the adventures of my trip, trip, trip to the loo with the mountain man---yeh, I know. It doesn't get any better than that, friends- Isn't love just grand?!- I share my photographic prowess with him, and we come upon the pack of toothbrushes for every occasion.

"Imagine, mountain man, " I marveled, " It says a lot about a person when you're buying a long lasting item like toothbrushes in bulk at that age!"

"Yeh, mysuestories. It speaks volumes. About Joe. And senility. He's had false teeth since for at least 30 years. He doesn't brush them. He soaks them. Like in a cup. Over night. Must be like a phantom pain," my hunk of too much information continues, " You know, like if some one's had a limb removed but it still itches...They say ( And, NO, dear reader, do NOT ask who they is!) that if a person truly believes the limb is there, they really do feel that itch, and can even "see" it there! You CAN actually wish an appendage to life!"

Hmmm. I wonder if I should have mentioned the 1,000 pack of individually wrapped Trojans I just slipped in the mountain man's night stand drawer. Size XXL.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

This is The End of the World As We Know It!

Well, the world may very well be coming to an end! Hell must be freezing over. Pigs will indeed fly. Farrah really IS an angel. And Michael Jackson is the world's very best child role model.

I suppose, dear reader, that you are wondering what has sent the earth in to this untimely spin of destruction? And why, oh why, is mysuestories at the heart of such world altering changes?
Simply put, constant reader, the current state of turmoil of this galaxy is caused by changes at mysuestories manor. Yep. Single handedly, I have achieved total universal chaos.

"But how did you do this, mysusetories, your majesty?" (Hey, my blog, my kingdom. Don't judge me.)
Quite simply, we have turned out our three-toed sloth to the working force! That's right. The kid who couldn't find his way out of a paper bag with a map has got a job!!!

Not just any job, either. He's pulling ten and eleven hour shifts SIX (That's right, reader, SIX!!!!) days a week digging post holes and installing fences for a certain local landmark (who shall remain nameless, but who would probably be better suited as a plumber due to certain characteristics!)

Yep, the kid who wouldn't, shouldn't, (" I just can't work, Mama! I just can't!") CAN!!!!!!! He really can work! And he does. Makes a mama proud, I tell ya!!!

And he has just stepped right into the working man's lament head first. Besides enrapturing us at nightly meals with tales "from the job site" and his just-walked-in-the-door lamentations of "what a long day on the job!" , our little three toed sloth has finally embraced a long standing tradition of the working man the globe over.

Tonight, the Sloth came home and announced he had bought his very first lottery ticket. You know. So that he can retire. At the ripe old age of eightteen.

Yep. He and sixty two million other Amercians. God bless the working class!