So, it comes down to the fact that my blog will be random rants from me in my everyday life. I'm pretty okay with that.
Today's topic: I Love New York. The word that continues to flash, bright pink, over and over in my mind is Why? Why? Why? Biggest question of all is why the hell do I continue to watch this show. I think it's that whole car accident analogy. You just can't look away. This show would be the severed arm right in my lane of traffic. I do not love her, I hate her soul. Yet, I continue to watch. God help me.
I blame Flavor Flav. It all started with his show, Flavor of Love. Again, the same question, why? I think I kinda know the answer to that one though. Who doesn't love a good cat fight? I think that's what got me hooked. Now, I hated New York, the person (Tiffany I think her name is), way back then. I found her pathetic and sad but in a way that made me feel like a million bucks, cause I wasn't near as crazy as her crazy ass on my best day, so it was okay. So she gets rejected in the worst way, not once, but twice, by some crackhead looking dude with gold teeth, a cane, and a big stupid clock hanging around his scrawny neck. Kinda would make me wanna get a faceplant and move to India. She's not a bad looking girl, crazy as shit, but not completely unfortunate looking. I guess VH1 felt kinda bad for ole crazy ass so they give her her very own TV show, where she can meet the love of her life one half hour at a time. Oh, but she's got some help, her crazIER than shit, momma. That woman scares the bejesus outta me. I would maybe consider the fact that she sold her mom's soul to get her own show but I truly doubt that woman has one. Personally, I would consider selling my own soul to watch those two spontaneously combust on national television. There's must see tv for you.
I realize that, for some of the drama, VH1 is pulling a "jerry springer show" on me and hyping it up but, damn me, I'm a sucker for it. I wanna see these grown men cry over a dog and dress up in gold speedo thongs, strutting their stuff in a "Man-gent". That's right, a MAN-GENT. God help me, I HATE I Love New York, but I'll be tuning in every stinkin chance I get.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Grandparents!!!
My mother. I'm sure that anyone with children who have living grandparents that are close can relate to this story:
My daughter and I drove to my mother's house yesterday with the sole purpose of selling girl scout cookies. We do our business (thank you please come again) and, after 30 agonizing minutes of yet another episode of Spongebob that I did not want to watch but my mother presses PLAY on the ole Tivo, we're off to wal-mart. But wait, my mother needs "a few things" from wal mart also and she will come with us. Dear Jesus help me!! I do not go to wal mart with my mother, or my husband for that matter. I am a very selfish shopper, I want to get my stuff, browse a little (for the stuff I want), and get the hell outta there. Especially when I have the 7 year prima donna with me, who, much to my dismay, has happened upon that stage where she wants everything she sees in commercials. Put into that equation that my mother plus my daughter at walmart equals my psychological breakdown. Dang it!
But...I am brave and must press on. We go to wal mart. No sooner than we get in the door, my daughter is standing on the end of the cart, something I do not let her do, but obviously my mother does. I say "get down" but GRANDMA says "it's okay". By the way, I'm having those words tatooed on her forehead when I admit her into the nursing home. I say, no, it is not. So my mother let's her stand at the front of the cart, in front of her when she is pushing. Whatever! We are not in that store 5 minutes, my mother decides that my daughter needs a lip gloss/key ring thing and into the cart it goes. Now let's mention the 15 thousand things of lip gloss that my daughter already has because my sister wants me to hate her and buys the 7 year old makeup for christmas. Plus, she's 7, and has no damn keys to attach it to. Whatever!! 10 minutes later, my daughter falls to the floor because she is jacking around, still standing on the front of the cart mind you, and falls off the damn cart. She's okay but I'll hold on the the I told you so! After a bit in the store, I go to the electronics while my mother is in produce, I don't need any damn produce. I get what I need, I go back to produce, not there. I go back to electronics, nope. Three rounds through the damn store later, they are in shoes. Now my daughter, who fortunately for me, is not a very good sneaker. She has her hand inside her coat, holding something and she is smiling. I say, what's in your coat. "Nuuuuuthin" she says. I say "Suuuuumthin, and you are a bad liar little girl". My mother starts laughing. Several "Nuuuuthin"s later, I am getting a little aggitated and my mother is laughing harder. Finally, she shows me that she has candy under her coat that my mother told her she could have but to hide it from me, because I generally do not let her have candy. Plus! Come to find out, they had been rehearsing the whole "Nuuuuuthin" thing.For what?, make me less suspicious!! My mother!! Trying to teach my daughter to be sneaky. Dang it! Whatever, she gets the damn candy and we're off to the checkout. Can't quite make it there though!. We stop at the damn Valentine's day display. My daughter "needs" a stupid big pink heart shaped pillow that says Love. What the hell for?? Plus, it's in cursive and she thinks it says Lave. What the hell ever, I want to go home and make dinner. Put the damn thing in the damn cart. Let's go. We checkout, halifreakinlleiya. I head to the car the doors, but, DAMMIT, my mother is diggin for change. Son of a Bitch! We gotta ride the friggin horse! "It'll only take a few minutes, go on to the car, we'll be out in a few". Yeah, of course, it's subzero and I'm loading the damn groceries all by my frozen ass lonesome. Get in the car, warm it up for the treasonous twosome, and we're off. But the fun doesn't stop there!! I glance back, she has one of the bubble things from the quarter machine. What the hell? Is that pink goo??? Pink goo????? Pink goo is the bane of my existance. "But there was no horse and the truck was broken, she needed something, ....blah, blah, blah" I quit listening, the blood was pooling in my ears. I'm planning a drop and run, get that woman out of my car and spray rocks outta the driveway. NOPE! Someone has to go to the bathroom. FUCK! "Can we watch Spongebob?" NO. "Can I have some cranberry things?" (dried cranberries) No, we're going home to make dinner. "But, mom, I'm hungry." That's what dinner is for. "But mom..." Go pee dang it, I wanna go home. My mother unloads groceries, puts some cranberry things in a baggie for my daughter (for a snack tomorrow), I take the baggie, and, oddly enough, she goes in the bathroom with my daughter, who is washing her hands. Two minutes later, here comes my daughter happily chewing on something. Son of a damn, shittin bitch! What are you eating? "Grandma said it was okay." Whatever!!!! Do I bother to yell at my mother??? No. I can't seem to find the words. Whatever, let's go home. Thank the lord, we make it home. I make dinner, then it's bath and bed. I can't even muster the strength to vent to my husband how impossible my mother is because I'm too dumfounded for words and I honestly believe he does not "get it" anyway. I just forget about it until the next time and there will be a next time. But I'll be damned if I EVER go to wal mart with those two again.
My daughter and I drove to my mother's house yesterday with the sole purpose of selling girl scout cookies. We do our business (thank you please come again) and, after 30 agonizing minutes of yet another episode of Spongebob that I did not want to watch but my mother presses PLAY on the ole Tivo, we're off to wal-mart. But wait, my mother needs "a few things" from wal mart also and she will come with us. Dear Jesus help me!! I do not go to wal mart with my mother, or my husband for that matter. I am a very selfish shopper, I want to get my stuff, browse a little (for the stuff I want), and get the hell outta there. Especially when I have the 7 year prima donna with me, who, much to my dismay, has happened upon that stage where she wants everything she sees in commercials. Put into that equation that my mother plus my daughter at walmart equals my psychological breakdown. Dang it!
But...I am brave and must press on. We go to wal mart. No sooner than we get in the door, my daughter is standing on the end of the cart, something I do not let her do, but obviously my mother does. I say "get down" but GRANDMA says "it's okay". By the way, I'm having those words tatooed on her forehead when I admit her into the nursing home. I say, no, it is not. So my mother let's her stand at the front of the cart, in front of her when she is pushing. Whatever! We are not in that store 5 minutes, my mother decides that my daughter needs a lip gloss/key ring thing and into the cart it goes. Now let's mention the 15 thousand things of lip gloss that my daughter already has because my sister wants me to hate her and buys the 7 year old makeup for christmas. Plus, she's 7, and has no damn keys to attach it to. Whatever!! 10 minutes later, my daughter falls to the floor because she is jacking around, still standing on the front of the cart mind you, and falls off the damn cart. She's okay but I'll hold on the the I told you so! After a bit in the store, I go to the electronics while my mother is in produce, I don't need any damn produce. I get what I need, I go back to produce, not there. I go back to electronics, nope. Three rounds through the damn store later, they are in shoes. Now my daughter, who fortunately for me, is not a very good sneaker. She has her hand inside her coat, holding something and she is smiling. I say, what's in your coat. "Nuuuuuthin" she says. I say "Suuuuumthin, and you are a bad liar little girl". My mother starts laughing. Several "Nuuuuthin"s later, I am getting a little aggitated and my mother is laughing harder. Finally, she shows me that she has candy under her coat that my mother told her she could have but to hide it from me, because I generally do not let her have candy. Plus! Come to find out, they had been rehearsing the whole "Nuuuuuthin" thing.For what?, make me less suspicious!! My mother!! Trying to teach my daughter to be sneaky. Dang it! Whatever, she gets the damn candy and we're off to the checkout. Can't quite make it there though!. We stop at the damn Valentine's day display. My daughter "needs" a stupid big pink heart shaped pillow that says Love. What the hell for?? Plus, it's in cursive and she thinks it says Lave. What the hell ever, I want to go home and make dinner. Put the damn thing in the damn cart. Let's go. We checkout, halifreakinlleiya. I head to the car the doors, but, DAMMIT, my mother is diggin for change. Son of a Bitch! We gotta ride the friggin horse! "It'll only take a few minutes, go on to the car, we'll be out in a few". Yeah, of course, it's subzero and I'm loading the damn groceries all by my frozen ass lonesome. Get in the car, warm it up for the treasonous twosome, and we're off. But the fun doesn't stop there!! I glance back, she has one of the bubble things from the quarter machine. What the hell? Is that pink goo??? Pink goo????? Pink goo is the bane of my existance. "But there was no horse and the truck was broken, she needed something, ....blah, blah, blah" I quit listening, the blood was pooling in my ears. I'm planning a drop and run, get that woman out of my car and spray rocks outta the driveway. NOPE! Someone has to go to the bathroom. FUCK! "Can we watch Spongebob?" NO. "Can I have some cranberry things?" (dried cranberries) No, we're going home to make dinner. "But, mom, I'm hungry." That's what dinner is for. "But mom..." Go pee dang it, I wanna go home. My mother unloads groceries, puts some cranberry things in a baggie for my daughter (for a snack tomorrow), I take the baggie, and, oddly enough, she goes in the bathroom with my daughter, who is washing her hands. Two minutes later, here comes my daughter happily chewing on something. Son of a damn, shittin bitch! What are you eating? "Grandma said it was okay." Whatever!!!! Do I bother to yell at my mother??? No. I can't seem to find the words. Whatever, let's go home. Thank the lord, we make it home. I make dinner, then it's bath and bed. I can't even muster the strength to vent to my husband how impossible my mother is because I'm too dumfounded for words and I honestly believe he does not "get it" anyway. I just forget about it until the next time and there will be a next time. But I'll be damned if I EVER go to wal mart with those two again.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Here goes.....
Okay, so I'm new to this whole "blogging" thing. I am doing it as an assignment for an English class. I can honestly say that I have had no interest in blogging thus far and probably will not continue once I am done with the class. Once again, I might find it a good way to vent or what not and continue on far after the class is done. One can never tell. I guess we will have to see.
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