Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Sometimes You Just Got to Say....

This is the last week of school for Big Kid and I, and thankfully, my term paper is FINALLY DONE!! Big Kid has some things to wrap up, but he is on his own for that one. I'm done! Yippee!

And man, am I ready for a vacation.

From Doods. My Doods. I want to find some girls and go on a Dood-free weekend road trip full of drinking and debauchery and laughter.

But there's still too much to do. Maybe next month.


So I'll just pretend all my girlfriends are here and we're dishing (sorry guys).

Why can't I have one freaking thing to myself? One thing, I mean just one---that at no point has had somebody else's grubby fingers all over it? Other than tampons, I mean.

Let's talk about food, for instance.

Now mind you, I am not forcing anyone to diet, I'm not starving anyone, and we have a mighty full larder. I provide 3 squares and ample snacks. And I'm not talking about Little Guy, because amazingly enough, the kid asks first before he even pours himself a glass of milk. Then he offers to pour one for everybody else.

It's the other two galoots I'm bitching about.

For Christmas, a friend sent me a boxed set of specialty cocoas in tins. There were three 20 oz tins. I stored them on the coffee shelf in the pantry, and specifically told everyone "hands off".

A couple months later, we ran out of regular cocoa, and it was a snowy day. The guys were begging for a hot cuppa, so I broke open the boxed set and one of the tins and made them each a cup of cocoa. Then I put it all back in the box and replaced it on the shelf.

Not TWO WEEKS later, I was rearranging some things and moved the box. It felt awfully light.

All three of the tins were empty. And replaced back in the box so it wouldn't be noticed right away.

After a survey of the family counting the number of people who enjoyed MY gift of cocoa in the previous 2 weeks?

Little Guy: 1 cup
Me: None
Hubby: None
Big Kid: Why's everybody looking at me? The dogs know how to heat water in the microwave too, you know!

There were two days of ass-kicking going on in the Attila house.

You would think after the raisin incident (where Big Kid consumed 2 pounds of raisins meant for holiday baking in one night and thought aliens were laying eggs in his digestive tract when he crapped out a bunch of undigested gray rehydrated butt chunks the next morning) he would have learned his lesson.

Not MY boy! Hmph.

My hubby is almost as bad. His excuse? "I had a golfball lodged in my throat/anal fissures/toe fungus/pick your ailment, and the ONLY thing that would make me feel better was that special thing that you had hidden for yourself under the 12 pounds of cast iron and copper pots in that far cabinet where you store the pans you only use once every two years."

Ok, that's sort of an exaggeration. But seriously, the real story is just as heinous.

For example: When I make up a grocery list, I look at the sales and ask the guys what kind of cookies/ice cream/pudding/whatever dessert they want. They let me know what they want and it always involves chocolate.

Not too long ago, Snack-Pack pudding was on sale, and I had a ton of coupons. So I picked up about a dozen packages of what they unanimously asked for. Milk chocolate pudding. Dark chocolate pudding. Chocolate and caramel pudding. Mississippi Mud Pie pudding. Something for all of them. I also got ONE Snack-Pack (4 cups to a package) of tapioca pudding for myself.

Hey, it's my kind of comfort food. I'm not going to apologize. I totally pass over any chocolate dessert for a piece of fruit, but once in awhile a little tapioca goes a long way. I hid it on the second shelf on the right side of the fridge, and buried it under the dregs of a bag of wilted pre-packaged salad, a half-filled bag of baby carrots (which everybody but me hates), and put a jar of dill relish and like 6 packages of chocolate snack packs in front of it.

The very next morning (usually I get up at around 5am) I opened the fridge to get coffee creamer and noticed that everything had been messed around with on that particular shelf. I moved the chocolate snack packs, and the relish, and the wilted salad, and the half bag of baby carrots.

Underneath there was one little tapioca container left, lonely and bereft amongst all the packaging.

When Hubby got up, I confronted him. "Did you eat my tapioca pudding in the middle of the night?"

He was indignant. I had an upset stomach so I ate "some" to settle it!

Some? 3 out of 4 pudding cups is "some"? When does it become "most"? After they're ALL gone?

And um yeah. Everybody and their mother knows that sugar, fat and lactose is the BEST way to settle an upset stomach. Silly me. The Pepto is front and center on the medicine shelf, next to the Tums. You really had to dig for this particular remedy, though, didn't you?

Both guys wait until I'm asleep to go rooting around in the cupboards in the middle of the night. It doesn't matter what is just sitting there in front of their faces. Like cookies, pudding, chips, or ice cream (in the freezer). If it's something that takes an effort to find, or an ingredient I bought for something I have to make the next day for a meeting, a conference, a school party...well then it's a prize!

Is it some kind of leftover caveman instinct where they have to hunt to get it? Is snitching a mini-bag of slivered macadamia nuts now the equivalent of bagging a mastadon for the family table?

I'm simply amazed...really AMAZED that the two of these Doods haven't yet bumped into each other in the dark---one scarfing down Betty Crocker frosting with his fingers and the other stuffing his face out of a container of Philly Cheese pre-made Cheesecake filling. Seriously---it's like they take shifts!

And it gets gross.

When I make a dinner that has nuggety stuff (chicken nuggets, jalapeno nuggets, cheese sticks, etc,) I have to make sure that everything is perfectly proportioned and if someone isn't there to eat their share at that exact moment, it gets wrapped up. Otherwise, there are a couple of guys who meander through the kitchen ostensibly to "put their glass in the dishwasher--ha", or "throw away their napkin---ha" who think that whoever didn't get their meal at that exact moment won't notice that their original equally proportioned six chicken fingers have been reduced to two.

On that thought, last month, I had just warmed up a small plate of BBQ pork that I hadn't finished from my dinner from the night before. I backed up, almost stepped on the little dog, and spilled about 80% of it on the floor. Scooped the pork up and put it back on the plate. It was coated with grody kitchen floor detritus and dog hair. I stuck the plate on the counter, was wiping the floor (nothing like getting sauce tracked through the house), and somebody knocked at the door.

UPS guy. I signed for the package, opened it, dealt with it, and ended up grabbing an orange before running downstairs to my office to take care of a couple of things. Totally forgot about the plate with the dirty pork.

Came upstairs and saw the plate sitting there, but it was empty. WTF? Called Big Kid, and demanded to know where it had gone. Since there was only the two of us in the house.

Did you eat my lunch? (not like I was actually going to eat it myself---with all the hair and crap stuck to it I was going to toss it, but I was baffled and pissed off by the audacity).

He pretended to be shamefaced. "It looked so good I couldn't help myself". Uh huh.

Did you even look at it before you ate it? No he hadn't. All he saw was something he wanted and inhaled it. As if it had been prepared especially for him. Didn't even notice that it had a fur and oatmeal crumb coating.


A few weeks ago, I had coupons for Tyson's ready made strips that you can find in the lunch meat aisle. The store had a 50% sale on Tyson stuff, so I got a bunch of bags of pre-cooked and seasoned chicken and steak for about a dollar a holler.

I showed them to all of the guys specifically and said---"I've got meal plans for these. They are NOT FOR SNACKING!"

The next night, I was making the fixings for steak fajitas and opened one of the packages of steak strips. It had a bad, sort of fruity, and fermented smell---kind of what I'd imagine a corpse that had been in the water for a week would smell like. The expiration date was two months ahead, so I figured I'd take it back to the store for a replacement. Sealed it back up, stuck the bag in the back of the fridge, and used the rest, which was fine.

I was going to the store a couple of days later, and dug the bag out. It was almost empty. eek! I confronted Big Kid and he swore he hadn't touched it.

I called Hubby at the office.

"Did you eat the steak strips from that bag in the back of the fridge?"

Busted! Again, he was defensive. I had an uncontrollable tickle in the back of my throat and I needed to eat a couple of pieces of steak to take care of it!

A couple of pieces? The bag was practically empty.

"Did you SMELL it before you ate it??? What in the hell is WRONG with you?"

It smelled kind of funny, but I thought it was the special seasoning!


I swear, I could take a half a cup of moist dog food, hock a loogie on it, cover it with chocolate sprinkles, wrap it up and hide in the back of the fridge, and it would be gone by morning.

Just because it is something they have to hunt for.

WTF is wrong with Doods?

Friday, April 18, 2008

Totally Verklempt...

Ok, you guys already know how I sneer at bad baby names.

As an example, Little Guy attended kindergarten with an adorable little girl named Felicia. We went to a school recital and were horrified/awed to find out that her name was actually spelled Phallicia. Either her mom had porn star plans for her in the future or was prepared to be absolutely despised once the kid got her hands on a dictionary.

And you also know what a big huge bug I have up my butt for the "tard" words----retard, f*cktard, slowtard, etc.

So a couple of days ago, I was minding my own damn business and had the Judge Mathis show on the tube while I was puttering around.

Took hearing it 3 or 4 times before I actually "heard" it.

One of the plaintiffs was named Tardenicia Monfort.

I just have no words. I'm utterly verklempt.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

::Sniff:: ::Sniff::

April is Autism awareness month, and I'm very sad to say that a good friend is taking a (hopefully not permanent) hiatus from blogland to focus on the upcoming needs of her son who will be leaving school soon. Casdok has been a wonderful resource and an encouraging friend.

She posted this on her last entry (not sure if she is the author, so forgive me if I don't attribute it correctly), and I think it sums up the lives our children are living so very aptly.

I don’t want to be treated like a child.
I want respect.
I don’t want to be ‘trained’.
I want the opportunity to grow.
I don’t want to fester in a local day service, or in a home.
I want to be an active member of the community.
I don’t want pity or patronizing.
I want to be valued.
I don’t want neglect or abuse.
I want to feel safe.
I don’t want lack of resources to be an excuse.
I want a creative approach.
I don’t want institutionalised staff.
I want people who really care.
I don’t want people being complacent about my behaviour.
I want to be nurtured.
I don’t want special services.
I want opportunity.
I don’t want to ‘fit’ into existing services.
I want choice.
I don’t want to miss out because of risk assessment.
I want some fun.
I don’t want to be cured.
I want acceptance.
I don’t want charity.
I want integrity and dignity.
I don’t want to be disabled by society.

I just want what everyone else has.

I'm going to miss you, Friend. Don't be a stranger!


Sunday, April 13, 2008

Asshat of the Week

If anyone has been following the story of the teen harpies who orchestrated and videotaped a beating of a classmate to put on YouTube, you'll have heard that the judge in the case has doubled the bond for the defendants. This week's Asshat award goes to the father of defendant Stephen Schumaker, one of the young men who stood look-out while the girls beat the snot out of another human being.

He's angry at the sheriff, especially for releasing the video to the public.

"'Grady Judd, our great sheriff, he made a mountain out of a molehill with all these trumped up charges for these kids,' he said."

Uh yeah, it's all the sheriff's fault that these pillars of society were stoopid enough to film themselves commiting a felony. Your kid is a hero. Asshat.

A special Richard Cranium award goes to that old media whore Dr. Phil.

A producer in his employ posted bail for one of the defendents, and then tried to order local reporters away from the jail, claiming that Dr. Phil had "exclusive rights" to the story.


Friday, April 11, 2008

Busy as a Bee.....

I know I've been a neglectful blogger. I seem to be apologizing all over the place all the time. So I'll give a quick rundown.

Big Guy and I are finishing our last month of the semester. Lots of projects to finish, term papers to do, finals to study for. Little Guy is graduating from high school, got an 18th birthday party to plan, prom is next week, he's in the school musical so rehearsals to run back and forth for. Big Guy is signed up for vocational rehab, and finishing his rehabilitative driving lessons. We've tried to make all these appointments, but all the snow this week has put us behind.

Since Little Guy is reaching his age of majority, we've been running around getting services in place for him---SSI appointments, community board services, and yes, we've filed for guardianship, despite advice from some self-advocates against it. It certainly doesn't have to be permanent, but he's very vulnerable to people who might take advantage of him. I'm not going to argue about it with the self-advocates, because I understand where they're coming from. But they function enough to blog about their views. He doesn't.

We've got a "friend of the court" visit next week to check out our home for suitability and to interview him to see what his wishes are. I'm so nervous that I'm teaching the dogs how to curtsy.

On the plus side, I wrote about some personal woes a couple of weeks ago in The Suckage of Life, and want to say that the majority of this has been resolved---maybe not to everybody's personal satisfaction, but we all walked away from it feeling equally screwed---so the family love and affection is still intact. Big huge weight off my shoulders.

More later....

Have a great weekend!


Monday, April 07, 2008


"For Mr Deaves the sexual relationship was 'absolutely fantastic'."

Somebody be like Moe and poke my eyeballs out.


I beg you.


Sunday, April 06, 2008

Opening Up A Can of Whup-Ass

My friend Liesl has got her rantipanties on today, and she's on a roll.

Don't you just hate when people forward ignorant/racist/hateful emails to their 50 closest friends without ever checking the validity of them?

Passing on the stupid, so to speak?

I usually counter with a link back to snopes, if I'm feeling benevolent.

Liesl deconstructs this one, and kicks some asshat.
Stop by and give her a holler!

Friday, April 04, 2008

Stuck on Stupid

I know I haven't written anything in the last week or more, but between class obligations, work obligations and life obligations, I've been derailed by stupid. Or just bullsh*t. Take your pick.

First of all, for the last 10 years or so, Hubby and I have been under our own misguided notion that the original copy of our marriage license/decree was in a safe deposit box up in the big city. For reasons I'm going to leave unexplained, I need the original copy for a legal reason. Turns out that the 5 copies we had notarized back when we thought we locked up the original don't count as certified and we now have no idea what happened to the original. Gak!

So I went to an online service that is in our state that I used to get extra certified copies of the boys' birth certificates a few years ago. Otherwise, I'd have to take a trip up to the county where Hubby and I were married, and right now, I just don't have time to spend an entire day going back and forth.

After I put in all the relevant info, declared I was one of the parties, gave my credit card info including my stated and billing address (refused the 19.95 Fed Ex delivery, but accepted the free "regular mail" option), I had to answer some "verification for personal identity" questions.

What other property do I own? It gave 4 addresses plus a "none". I answered it correctly.

What cities in Colorado had I never lived in? It gave 3 cities I'd lived in plus one that doesn't even exist, and I picked the correct option.

What county have I never lived in? It gave 4 counties, plus a "none" option. I picked the correct option.

Have any of these people ever lived with you or lived at your current address? It gave 4 names plus a none option.

Well how in the hell am I supposed to know? I know the names of the people we bought the house from, but they weren't on the list. Do they think we keep a walking pedigree of the previous owners/tenants from the time the house was built? I clicked on "none".

And they rejected my application based on that. How freaking stupid is it?

We went to Little Guy's IEP meeting. Although he is graduating from high school this year, he is going to receive transitional services through the high school until he is 21.

We've been planning a huge graduation "do" for him. We'd already let all the friends/family know when his graduation was taking place, and many have bought plane tickets and gotten hotel reservations in anticipation for his day.

While we were compiling the "official" graduation announcements to send out, we noticed some fine print on them. "By ticket only". WTF?

Turns out that each graduate gets 7 tickets. When deciding on this venue (which isn't actually in our small town, and could have seated over a couple of thousand people if they held it at the high school like normal peeps instead of at some swanky auditorium down in the city) the organizers didn't inform the families that we'd be limited by tickets. Relatively speaking to the rest of the country, it's a very small graduating class----around 120. The rest of the tickets are going on first come, first serve at the front office on Monday. Limit 5 tickets per family.

Little Guy has 5 siblings alone. No, I didn't mistake my vagina for a clown car, but his dad has remarried and has had a second family. Additionally, Little Guy has 4 parents. 5 grandparents. 4 aunts and uncles (out of like 12) who have made plans to come. Close friends who marked out this date and have non-refundable plane tickets.

It's bullsh*t. As I said to the assistant principal at our IEP----"This is Little Guy's Day. The day the 'experts' said would never come."

He isn't going to ever get a chance to graduate from college. This is IT for him. So from out of all our friends and family who have already spent money on plane tickets----we have to decide who gets to go and who not? The rest can sit around in our living room and twiddle their thumbs? I think not.

Stupid. It's stupid.*

*Yes we've planned a big graduation party for the day after (the graduation is at 7pm), but seriously, people are coming in to be there at his big moment. And he deserves to have them there.

Oh and P.S. I've got to either go up to the county in person to get our decree or apply by snail mail. So snail mail it is. :-)