MYSUESTORIES: The Ghost of Christmas Past

Ah, that Christmas spirit!<br /><br /><br /><em>***Note to our kids---This post involves your parents AND sex- --read at your own risk or risk stabbing your eyes out with a dull knife in an attempt to rid yourself of the images to follow :</em><br /><em></em><br />Who am I kidding? They don't even read this!<br /><br />It's time to stuff those stockings for the spawn of our loins, and quite frankly, what <em></em>do<em></em> you get for boys aged 13 to 22 that fits in an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">over sized</span> fur lined sock? Now, step daughters (when I had some) were easy- lipstick, nail polish, emery boards....the list was endless. Boys? Not so much.<br /><br />So I came back to what works best in our little clan....lottery tickets!!!!<br />I sprung my brilliant idea on the mountain man...<br /><br />"I can get each of them a stack of lottery scratch offs, they don't even have to be wrapped! <em></em>And<em></em> I can shop at that little smoke filled cigar/lotto store where the people look like they haven't moved from in front of that Quick Pick machine in years! <em></em>And<em></em> it's right next to the liquor store! I can do <strong></strong>our<strong></strong> shopping too! Win! Win!"<br /><br />"I don't know if lottery tickets is ideal for a thirteen year old, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mysuestories</span>", speaks the voice of Christmas Scrooge.<br /><br />"Why ever not?" After all, I grew up doing my home work in bingo halls and bowling alleys. By the age of six, we all knew you couldn't yell "BINGO" yourself, but had to discreetly whisper to Mom that "Hey, MOM!!!!!I HAVE BINGO!!!!!!!" -Have you ever even heard a six year old whisper? Not possible!<br />Anyway, why not indeed? I turned out just fine, didn't I? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Hmmm</span>, maybe that's <em></em>not<em></em> the best selling point..<br /><br />"Mountain man, is it because (((shudder))) you have suddenly developed an inner moral compass and think lottery tickets could lead our cherub to a future life of gambling?" Acquiring a moral compass at this point in our marriage would not be a good thing for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">mysuestories</span>.<br /><br />"Hell, no, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">mysuestories</span>. It's not the gambling that bothers me. Can you imagine if he won millions of dollars? We'd never live it down. <strong></strong>And<strong></strong> we'd be at his mercy!!"<br /><br />It's true. The only thing that keeps the gamester in line is that he depends on us, you know, for food, for shelter, to feed his video game addiction. If <em></em>he<em></em> were the one with all the cash.....<br />***<br />The gamester: "Mom, I'm taking the limo to Disneyland. See ya next week. And if you can't get the new video system for me while I'm away, I can always buy a mom who can...."<br /><br />***<br /><br />Mountain man: "Gamester, that grass needs to be cut."<br />The gamester: "I know. Mom's doing it for me. She needed some extra cash for a new pair of shoes, so I hired her."<br /><br />***<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">mysuestories</span>: "Gamester, did you shovel out your room yet?"<br />Gamester: "It's covered. My new maid will be in on Tuesday. Oh, and there's a homework guy coming in on Monday to finish that book report...."<br /><br />***<br /><br />Oh, the horror that would be this household! I guess I'll just stuff his stocking with fireworks instead. Less mayhem that way!<br /><br /><br /><br /><em>Oh, and that parental sex scene you were waiting for, oh faithful reader? That's <strong>one</strong> way to get my kids not read a Christmas spoiler!!!!</em>

Visions of Sugarplums....

Okay, so it's that Most Wonderful Time of the Year. It's December 20, 2018. Christmas is 5 days away. I haven't bought a single present for my family. Not one. I used to shop for my kids and "husband du jour" for months! Making lists.....Checking them two/three...okay, eighteen times (can anyone say OCD?)....I bought, I hid, I wrapped. I even had the kids wrap their own gifts after the proverbial Elf fell off the shelf and it was clear that no magical old guy with reindeer was going to pay off my Mastercard. Of course, the kids didn't know they were wrapping their own gifts and I never let them peek in the boxes! I have some sense of Christmas respectability here. So, me, mysuestories, who has shown nothing but the utmost admiration for the Gods of Merchandising is not shopping this year. Cold turkey.... God hide the credit cards and keep the wine flowing......I WILL NOT SHOP FOR PRESENTS. I WILL NOT SHOP FOR PRESENTS! I WIll not shop..... Geez, this is gonna be a rough week to follow me, oh dear constant reader....I'll understand if you switch over to the Omnipresent Idol of Christmas Present.. Amazon Prime....right now.... No? So you're still with me here? Good to know. So this year at the Mountain Man's behest (or perhaps his beheading..I'll have to get back to you on that one!)...we have decided to gift our children with the gift of US! That's right. We have managed to figure out the last thing they would rather do is spend time with us! So, in honor of this knowledge, we have decided to gift the kids we so dearly adore with ,,,wait for it..... SPENDING TIME WITH US!!!! Of course we have to wrap up the double-cross-my heart and hope to die- secret inside of something to make them show up to spend their time with us! So Mountain Man had the perfect idea. We are taking them all Hot Air Ballooning! That's right. Me, with my fear of heights....does anyone remember the shady carnival ride "Master of Upside Down Doom".....put together in twenty un-OSHA approved minutes by a scary, hairy guy of questionable hygiene ? No, just me? All righty then... Moving on... So the Mountain Man and I will be gathering up our most precious (and remaining) children and embark on a HOT AIR BALLOON ride that simply may be the Ghost of Christmas Last for our dear family. What could possibly go wrong? Other than us floating higher into the atmosphere than anything without wings was not meant to go? Or worse, NOT floating higher, but hurtling to the ground from unwieldy heights? Could go either way. Ahh...who am I kidding? With all my hot air, I'm pretty sure we could navigate the globe. And my unsuspecting offspring? Well, wouldn't it be nice to have their undivided attention for 80 days or so? Merry Christmas to me!

Hello, my friend, hello....

It's been a very long time since I have attempted to occupy this space. I have no idea, or expectation of anyone ever reading this little space of mine. Or what used to be mine. A lot has happened in the life of this little blogger. And on that note.. I am going to continue this little blog revisit under the assumption that this will be for my eyes only. Not that I am barring anyone from reading along..Just that I cannot guarantee this will generate the laughter from the audience I once played to on this sweet little instrumental laptop. , You have been forewarned...follow if you dare..... So...I miss being funny on these internet pages.... I liked the gratification of likes and comments and emojis and thumbs up from the people I love ....and to be honest? the strangers who commented were the biggest rush since, well, that first live concert I ever saw, called RUSH, of course....that, dear friend, is a story for another day. I miss writing for the public (All five of you!) but mostly I just miss writing. At all. I want to write. I can write. I can write things people (all five of you) may laugh at , or better yet...send an emoji or the HOLY GRAIL....a comment.........ECSTASY! (the feeling, not the drug!) So, constant reader, you have stuck with me this far tonite....You have earned (or suffered through my intro) the right to know why. Why I have lost my mojo? Why can't I write amusing little musings? (Apparently I still retain my play on words) My life has been forever changed....(which of us hasn't had an earth shattering moment in the last five years?) Any way.. I am going to try to continue this soul cleansing story and hopefully in the process I can find my funny bone,,,, or if not, hey,,,it's a free show here... so if you have come this far, maybe you will be willing to go a little farther... I look forward to seeing you in my next post......Or as I think it should be called...The Cleansing of MY Soul....... MYSUESTORIES........ Tune in again, my dear readers(?) I look forward to seeing you again. I hope you feel the same.

MYSUESTORIES: Baby You Can Drive My Car

MYSUESTORIES: Baby You Can Drive My Car

Which Came First? The Chicken Wire or The Garden?

So, I ask you, constant reader, (or as constant as you could possibly be, considering the fact that I post almost as often as Tom Cruise puts out a good movie).....Once again, I digress..... So I ask you constant reader.......Why is the cheap, 16 inch high, wire fencing designed to protect the average man's garden called "CHICKEN WIRE"? Especially when we come home to find a chicken (okay....not a random chicken in a major city, but one of our neighbor's chickens) ....(Why, yes, yes, we do have neighbors with chickens.....why do you ask?).... Anyway, We, (the Mountain Man and I), come home to find a chicken trapped in our garden.....dining on our seedlings and pre-pubescent plants...INSIDE THE CHICKEN WIRE PERIMETER! HELLO? What good is it to have a CHICKEN WIRE perimeter if the chickens can permeate it? Wait, it gets better....(I think...depending on if you side with the Mountain Man or the Chicken).....And so the Mountain Man storms out to our anti-chicken enclosed garden to rid us of the beast...... (sorry, survivalist readers, there was no gun: hand held or otherwise involved) ......Any how, And so my knight in shining armor (dirty khaki shorts, truth be told, and an ink pen stain on his new shirt) storms the pest-proof garden....Which, by the way? Cornered chickens do NOT take well to grown (ok, questionable) but let's go with grown men...chasing them.....the poor chicken couldn't find its way out, nor could the Mountain Man catch the wild beast! (my hero, you say? Meh, maybe not so much!)... End result? Chicken scared to death managed to hop over protective garden fencing (Read: CHICKEN WIRE)...which is how the little f@cker entered the garden in the first place! Lesson to be learned? Chicken Wire does not necessarily mean it can keep out chickens (But? Unintended side effect? It CAN raise the blood pressure of a certain Mountain Man!) And another side-effect? Mysuestories is kept in stitches! Chickens? You are safe on Hallowed MYSUESTORIES land!

Hail And Oats

Note to self: When setting up mouse traps to nail the little m@ther-fracking moles who are making Swiss cheese out of the backyard with all their intricate underground tunnels? One should remember to put the peanut butter (and oats----did you know moles like oats, constant reader? Well, neither did I...but apparently they do.........I can't imagine where they find oats on their own....perhaps there is a 24 hour Wild By N@ture knockoff convenience store run by moles who work 18 hour shifts and sleep in the back of said store)...Anyway, I digress...AGAIN...imagine that..... Anyway........one (and when I say "one", I mean mysuestories)...one should put the peanut butter and oats on the snap traps BEFORE you set the device. Just saying........ Having those little traps snapping all over the kitchen as ONE attempts to bait them.....peanut butter flying and oats falling like little stones of hail (ok, ok, so they were very quiet little oat flakes...give me a little leeway here....) ....Where was I? Oh, right ...peanut butter and huge oat meteors everywhere....... This COULD quite possibly be hilarious! (trust me on this one...It WAS hilarious).....Then again? I think we all know I have a pretty low tolerance for humor! I have (and will again) laugh at just about everything! Mysuestories 0 Moles 1 Sigh.....

this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody's part

Someone HAS to ask the question, so I guess it will have to be mysuestories.......reputation be d@mned! Why the h#ll do college dorm room beds have to be "extra long twin" sized? (Which, by the way? Only adds an additional 4.7 inches to a "standard" twin sized bed)......Why, yes, dear reader, I DID research, AND measure....thank you for asking! The dorm room is the ONLY place you will ever have (and therefore need to special order proper fitting sheets) the extra long twin size bed...... I am thinking it is all about getting you to spend an additional $60. per sheet set that only comes in sets of TWO!!!!!!! (IE: $120!).....Which? Coincidentally? Can be conveniently ordered from the college store in advance....Two complete sheet sets/4 pillow cases/ 1 reversible extra long twin comforter/ mattress cover /thermal blanket/2 pillows/ 4 towels/4 wash cloths/ and 2 bath sheets....all in your (read: the gamester's) choice of patterns. (We are now conveniently up to $220 (plus tax (but wait...There is FREE SHIPPING).All this, so that one helicopter mom (without a landing pad, ie: mysuestories ) can sleep well knowing that her college-bound child ....the same one who does NOT KNOW what stationery is..(see previous post!)....will not be sleeping short-sheeted.... ...(And? To be perfectly honest? We ALL know the gamester ( and most other college bound young men) Will NEVER use that second set of extra long twin sized sheets--only sold in sets of two- because most colleges frown upon doting mothers arriving on campus every other week to change their bed sheets! (Not to mention the frowns/scowls/eye-rolling/and otherwise unhappy facial features of the actual son/child/student..when mommy lands on the college heliport bi-weekly!) Again? Need I mention? This IS the same child/man-child/about to be living on his own-college bound son...that refuses to adjust (or pick up off the trash -laden floor of his current bedroom) the 800 thread count fitted sheets I have previously procured for his NOT AN EXTRA LONG TWIN SIZED BED! The self-proclaimed top sheet? (Again sent in sets of two!) May as well be used for lettering on fraternity flags........ And assuming he DOES actually change these interchangeable/otherwise useless sheets occasionally ? What the heck am I supposed to do with them after he graduates ...Ok...so I am assuming a LOT right now!? Do I just suck it up big time and order an extra long twin sized bed that just may go in what we now call the "previous bedrooms of the children we adore and love", yet hope they never, ever, have to move back into? Assuming, of course, that all future house-guests (that does NOT mean YOU, current children!!!) will be single (re: twin size), and of lengthy stature (ok, that rules out you, Burke!) I am hereby calling all fans/mysuestories fanatics(all two of you)/and other rebels of the internetz...WE THE PEOPLE DEMAND NORMAL SIZE BEDDING FOR OUR OFF SPRING THAT WE ENTRUST TO YOUR CARE!!!! Either that, or they ..meaning the big-buck sucking college----should include the cost of extra long twin bedding as just one more addition to the already really, really long list of things included in tuition costs (besides actual education! ) In the slightly adapted words of John Belushi..."Who's with me?!!!!" t? Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no! Otter: Germans? Boon: Forget it. He's rolling. Bluto: And it ain't over now. 'Cause when the goin' gets tough . . . the tough get goin'! Who's with me? Let's go! C'mon! [He runs out of the room screaming but then returns.] Bluto: What the fuck happened to the Delta I used to know? Where's the spirit? Where's the guts, huh?! This could be the greatest night of our lives, but you're gonna let it be the worst! "Ooh, we're afraid to go with you Bluto, we might get in trouble." Well, JUST KISS MY ASS FROM NOW ON!!! Not me! I'm not gonna take this! Wormer, he's a dead man! Marmalard, DEAD! Niedermeyer— Otter: Dead! Bluto's right. Psychotic, but absolutely right. [Otter stands up.] We gotta take these bastards. Now, we could fight 'em with conventional weapons. That could take years and cost millions of lives. Oh no. No, in this case, I think we have to go all out. I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody's part...... Bluto: And we're just the guys to do it. [Boon and D-Day stand.] Boon: Let's do it. Bluto: Let's do it! [Everybody cheers and starts running out of the room, with Bluto still standing there.] Bluto: Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!