I was reading through my archives tonight (*puts my finger to your mouth* Don’t ask…) I found this and it made me laugh (THE DRUGS!) So I thought I’d post. Enjoy. Ha. Ha.
Category Archives: This Thing Called Life
Grumpy (fat) Butt
I was thinking of renaming this blog to www.the-car-accident-blog.com. But, I think it would be easier and less annoying if I just stopped talking about the freaking accident.
HOWEVER.
There were two very Exciting! Updates! that I must write about. And then, I will never speak of it again, for it will be dead to me and alive to God, because I am giving The Accident to God.
Exciting! Update! #1. We got our deductible back.
Exciting! Update! #2. It is now an uninsured motorist claim. The other driver (who was at fault, and who I will now refer to as The Perp, as in The Perpetrator.) is no where to be found and someone who lives at her house told our adjuster that she is “out of town” until “sometime late July.”
How precious. She causes a major accident, avoids the law and flees town. I really hope God blesses her life in a beautiful way. (Pray for your enemies! Treat them with kindness! Do not be bitter! Blessings and love to all, even uninsured assholes!)
Moving on.
I recently made the decision to switch up my workout schedule. Rather than going to the gym in the evenings, I decided that I’d start hitting that bitch early in the A.M. So, yesterday morning I arose at 5:30 and made my way to the All Wimmins Gym.
Whoa.
I was NOT prepared for Early Rising Worker Outters.
I’m used to going to the gym after 7pm. The people who are at the gym when I get there are tired, quiet and somewhat grumpy. They don’t want to talk about their day and they don’t care about how you’re doing or what your plans are for the weekend. They just want to do their curls and squats and get the hell out of there.
But the Morning Worker Outters are a completely different kind of people.
They are happy! And perky! And glad to be alive! And coated in a thick, vanilla scent! And generally annoying!
They’re all “Good morning!” “How are you?” “Ready to burn some of that oh so abundant fat?” “Jesus loves you and so does the treadmill!”
There were a couple of women on the treadmill going on and on about how great they felt and how happy they were to be there on the treadmill burning the calories and how they were planning a bridal shower for their best friend and how fucking HAPPY they were to be doing it.
Here I was, ready to roundhouse kick any vanilla scented vagina that came within 10 feet of my personal space and these women were like “omygod, I’m so glad you’re here… GROUP HUG AND THEN HOWZA’BOUT WE DO SOME CRUNCHES, GOD’S CHILDREN!”
I wasn’t prepared for such love and friendliness so damn early in the morning.
I was genuinely in awe of these women who purposely get up early to go to the gym and are so gosh darn happy and excited to be there.
Fah-reaks.
I plan on becoming an Early Worker Outter, because I absolutely loved not having “I have to go to the gym” hanging over my head all day long, but I can promise you that I will never be one of those vanilla scented freaks who sports a smile on my face and radiates Gods Love from my overweight soul while doing bicep curls before 7 in the morning.
Introducing… The Replacement Van.
FIVE WEEKS after some woman (whose insurance information we still do not have) thought it was ok to NOT look both ways before she pulled out into on coming traffic causing my husband to hit her and total The Van, our insurance finally gave us a settlement on The Van (but withheld the deductible, even though the police report states very clearly that the other driver was at fault.)
When we first found out they had totaled our van, we were mad because we didn’t want to get a new car. We were only a year away from paying our van off, OH! THE UNFAIRNESS!
But then, I was all “you know what? We do not have to buy a new car! We can just buy a used Ass-tro van (because I have Deep Love for Ass-tro vans) so that we can be in the same position that we were before the accident! Surely, we can find an old Ass-tro van for less than 9,000!”
Ha! Ha! Haaaaa!
Did you know they stopped making Ass-tro vans in 2005? And did you know that people who bought Ass-tro vans before 2005 NEVER TRADE THEM IN? Because they run forever! And because they hold 8 passengers! And are built on a truck chasy!
I was not alone in my Ass-tro love. The world loves Ass-tros.
We did find a couple that were in our price range, but the mileage was outrageous and they were thrashed on the inside. And I wasn’t being picky, either. I was willing to accept a few dings and scratches, but I was not willing to drive around in a car that had chunks of plastic missing and holes in the carpet.
I spent hours on Autotrader and looking through newspapers and calling dealerships and visiting dealerships and telling car salesman to STEP OFF.
We were getting desperate, because we’ve been renting a car since the accident happened and did I mention that we’re paying for that out of our pocket because we still don’t have the other person’s insurance information? (And we’re not allowed to knock on her door and ask her for it, because that would be a “violation of her civil rights”?! HAaaaajajaAAsasaa2!@!!441!!)
Last night Tony stopped by a dealership to check out a non-ass-tro van.
He liked it.
He liked it SO much, that he spent 7 hours at the dealership, trying to work out a price/payment we could live with.
At 10 pm last night, he rolled up to the house with the salesman in the van.
“If you like it, we’ve worked out all of the financing and it’s yours. BUT THERE’S NO PRESSURE TO BUY IT, even though the sales guys drove it all the way from another city that is 45 minutes away! Seriously! No pressure at ALL!”
The good news for everyone was that I loved the van. Not as much as I loved The Ass-tro. (Ok, maybe I do love it more than the Ass-tro, because it is luxurious and it has a center console! And a cd player that works! And the front bumper that isn’t tore in half! But, I am not ready to admit it yet, because, like Lena said, I am not ready to let go of the “Let’s go for a ride in Mah’ Big Ass Bumperless Ass-tro Van!” joke just yet.)
I took it for a spin around the block and loved the way it felt to drive. I loved the way the dash looked; I loved that the payments will be cheaper than my van and not for SEVEN YEARS. I loved everything about it.
Well, everything except the smell. Thank you, dear smokers, for ruining The New Car Smell for me. I really appreciate that, asshole/s.
The papers were all written up and ready to go, all I had to do was say “Yes!” and write the check for the down payment.
Oh, the power!
I said yes, whipped out the checkbook and in less than 5 minutes, I was the proud owner of This Van.
I’m happy that we were able to put an end to THAT portion of a Car Accident Nightmare, but man, we still have a lot of crap to settle. Like, you know, getting the other drivers insurance information so we can get our money back for the rental car and getting our deductible back from our insurance company who really had no right to withhold it in the first place.
I never imagined we’d still be dealing with this shit FIVE WEEKS LATER.
Anyway.
Did I just write an entire post about buying a van? I did, didn’t I?
Yeah, baby
My parents are going to Palm Springs for a few days and my mouth is watering from the excitement I feel at having the house to ourselves.
It feels just as exciting as it did when I was 18, engaged and still living at home when my parents decided to go on vacation for a week! And I couldn’t go because I had a job! And me and Fiancé Pig Hunter could have “picnics” without fear of my mom or dad driving up and catching us partaking of one another’s “all beef and tuna sandwiches”.
I want to text message all of my 3 friends and be like “OMG, mom n dad r leaving 4 2 days!! Party at their house! P.S bring a 40!!”
But really, I’m just excited that for two entire days I can read TMZ without my mom looking over my shoulder going on and on about what a waste of time it is to read about celebrities and their drugs and their sex and their SIN!
I’m also happy that for 2 days I will not have to listen to my mother’s thinly veiled insults that are neither thin nor veiled.
Example-
Me: I hate it when he says things like that, but he learned them from me, he acts just like me.
My Mom: I know. That kid wants to be just like you….Unfortunately.
Don’t feel too sad for me though, my mother does love me, she just doesn’t like me very much. But more on that later as there is already a post in which I try to define my relationship with my mother sitting in “draft mode.”
I can only imagine that my parents are just as excited to be getting away for a few days because 5 very loud Mexicans have invaded their personal space and I’m sure they would love nothing more than to do things like “Pray” in peace. (That’s RIGHT they’re going to spend their time alone in that beautiful hotel room PRAYING because, just like YOUR parents, my parents do not have sex!)
And that is why you will not hear me complaining about my parents, because as annoying as they can be, the five of US are more annoying. Also, it was very kind and generous of them to offer their house to us. I am truly grateful. So, out of respect for the kindness, I will not from talk about them in a negative way—with ONE exception.
I WILL write about one of my mother’s disgusting habits. Like, wiping the kitchen counter tops with the SAME dish rag she had just wiped the steak juice off of the WOODEN cutting board with and then throwing that same dish rag in the washer with a load of clothes I had just put in that contained articles of clothing that TOUCH MY VAGINAL AREA.
(And it wasn’t even a “hot water” wash either, people. I honestly didn’t think people who weren’t my Grandma actually did stuff like that.)
Anyway.
The Parents are gone and I can’t decide what I want to do first. Have The Legal and Jesus Approved Sex? Or drink some wine in the garage (because I wouldn’t even dare to bring Devil Water inside of this house, for fear of being struck down by The Lord Himself.)
I think I’m going with The Sex.
My Fingers are Too Tired To Type a Title.
There was a time where I would use this blog to vent every frustration, to work through every fear, every emotion. Whenever I was feeling sad, I’d sit down and write through it, sometimes sobbing the entire time I was typing away at the keyboard. I’d feel better almost immediately after writing it, and almost always regret having written it 5 minutes after hitting “publish.”
Writing was therapeutic for me. It has been since I was a little girl. There’s just something about writing through a particular emotion that I have always found comforting. When I suffered a severe depression in 2003, I learned that while writing through my depression was a valuable tool, I needed professional help as well. So, I went and got me a psychiatrist, a therapist and various prescription drugs (which I no longer take.)
I also learned that when you’re open with your thoughts, your emotions, your fears, your mental illness, people will use that shit against you. They will twist your words, they will mock you, they will call you names and so on and so forth. Now, I’m not a sensitive person. I’ve developed pretty thick skin over the years. I’ve had to in order to survive in my family. We’re a pretty brutal bunch and it’s not uncommon to be teased about everything from my weight, to my overly protective nature, to the way that I dress. I have learned to laugh at myself and to even take it a step further and be self deprecating every chance that I get. I’ve also learned that when complete strangers say nasty things, it’s more about them and their insecurities than it is about me. But, not always— I certainly give people a hell of a lot of material to use against me.
I have recently found myself extremely guarded about what I post online. I think it was good for me to pull back a little. However, I think that I’ve taken it to the opposite extreme. I’ve been avoiding writing about anything that involves my “feelings” or “the sadness that I feel deep within my soul because the life as I knew it has been completely turned upside down and my husband is depressed and not helping at all to get us out of this situation and I am the only one obsessively looking for a house we can afford and trying to get a better job and saving money and why isn’t he helping me? Does he want to live with my parents forever?” and instead writing about things like van heaven! And bean dip! Because hahaha! No one can use bean dip against you. (Except, they totally can, because did you know that the reason we don’t own a house is because I spend all of my husband’s money on BEAN DIP! 8 dollars a day to be exact!)
I recently confessed to Liz that I find it hard to write the way I used to, because I feel more guarded and protective of my feelings. She said something that I think about almost every day.
“You have to speak your truth.”
And she’s right. She’s right because I have hundreds of saved emails from women who have written to me to tell me how much they can relate to the things that I write. I’ve had women tell me very personal things that have made me weep because I know how they feel and NO ONE should feel that way about themselves. I have emails dating back to 2005, because those emails have meant the world to me and sometimes, when I’m having a really bad day, I’ll go back and read them. I feel so grateful to every single person who has taken the time out of their lives to send me an email telling me their stories, or offering their moral support, or giving me advice, or telling me their praying for me and my family.
I am sorry if you’ve sent me one of those emails and never received a response from me. Truly sorry, because as many excuses as I could give you for not responding, there really isn’t an acceptable excuse for it at all.
I’m not even sure where I’m going with all of this because what I was TRYING to say is that I want to find a healthy balance in which I write about things that are important to me (like my weight “issues” and my “feelings” ) and at the same time hold some things back because, really, The Internet doesn’t need to know everything.
One of the reasons that I love having this blog is that I can go back and read about things that my boys said and did four years ago. Things that I probably would have forgot about had it not been for this blog. I love reading how I felt when I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant with my daughter, or when Tony told me he wanted to “put a cup on my ass.”
The truth is my life is pretty shitty right now and I am sad most of the time. Not depressed, sad. That doesn’t mean that I am unable to find “joy” in my life, it just means that sometimes, I get sad. I’ve avoided writing much since moving in here with my mom because I’m really working hard on holding my true feelings prisoner inside of my head and pretending that “I’m FINE!” because if I say how I really feel or let that shit out, I don’t think I would ever stop crying. So, I save my tears for my pillow at night and put one foot in front of the other with a pretty little smile during the day.
PigHunter isn’t doing well either and has chosen to isolate himself from me and go to bed early instead of helping me get the hell out of my parents house. I try not to get upset with him, because I know he’s depressed and feeling like he’s failed his family. (because contrary to Popular Assholes on the Internet Opinion- he DOES share some blame in this situation, but I don’t air that stuff here because he’s a good man, an incredibly good father and I love him.) The truth is, we’ve both failed and this has been a huge wake up call for me. Most days I straddle the line of wanting to shake him and say “YES,YOU SCREWED UP, BUT SO DID I AND WE CAN MAKE THIS BETTER! HELP ME MAKE THIS BETTER!” and wanting to just squeeze him so tight and weep and tell him how proud I am for everything he’s done for this family and how it isn’t the end of the world, but the beginning of a new life for us.
The good news is that, with the exception of Gabby at bed time, the kids are as happy as they’ve ever been here at Grandpa and Grandma’s house. They can swim in the pool! Or play video games all night with their uncle! And the only chore they have is to clean up Bandit’s poop! It’s like an extended vacation! I was really worried about Ethan, because he was so devastated about leaving the only house he’s ever known, but he loves it here and I couldn’t be happier about that.
The other day I was in my room with Gabby and my dad called me. I asked him what he wanted and he said he wanted me to come and sit next to him. I got nervous, expecting another sermon on how all of this was happening because I had fallen away from God and if I would just get right with Him, things would start falling into place in my life.
But that’s not what happened. My dad hugged me and said “I love you, Mija.” And I said “I love you too, dad.” And then, he started to cry.
“Dad, don’t cry! Why are you crying?” I said, trying to fight back my own tears, because, “I’M FINE!”
“Because, I love you and I hate to see you hurting this way. I hate seeing you stressed out and constantly worried. You’re my daughter, I love you and I want the best for you and I am sorry that you’re going through all of this.”
Totally didn’t expect that. I wanted to cry, I wanted to just let it all go and tell him just how sad I really feel, but I didn’t, I held it in, except for a little tear that escaped and fell down my cheek while my dad openly wept for me.
He then started to pray for me in a way I’d not heard him pray before. Instead of asking God to “deal with me” for my sinful ways, he asked God to bestow his love and joy upon me. He asked God to show me his kindness and to take away all of my burdens and fears. I just sat there, not knowing what to say or do, fighting back tears because my dad could see through the facade and recognized how sad, nervous and stressed out I really am.
To see my dad break down like that was strangely comforting, to know that he loves me and worries for me.
I needed to know that and I definitely needed that prayer.
And what I really need now is to stop talking about this already and go back to holding it all inside because it’s much safer there and all of this crying makes me look even uglier than I already feel.
But! Before I go, I want to leave you with a little “treat.” (Yes, I am calling it a treat.) Remember a while back I had written another really long post and I told you about some tapes my mom found that contained recordings of 6 year old me singing songs about Jesus?. Well, my mom had those tapes put onto a CD and I just listened to it and now, I am going to share it with all of you, because I know you want to hear me singing songs about Jesus.
Enjoy.
It Would Make Me Very Happy if You Read This Post Out Loud in the Voice of Mary Hart.
Hi! How are you?
Good?
I hope so.
Me? I’m “fine!”
Thanks to some of you, I’m SO fine, that I’m using Gun Fingers everywhere I go.
Someone will ask me “How you holding up?” And I’ll go “just great!”
Pow! Pow!
Thanks a lot for that, Internet.
Oh, Thumbs Up, how I miss you.
Today I called a friend who I haven’t talked to in about 7 days, which doesn’t seem like a lot, but the speed at which crazy things are happening in my life, 7 days in my life is like an entire year in the life of someone whose life does not suck.
Or something like that.
When my friend answered the phone, I was all “Oh, I have something hilarious to tell you! Tony was in a car accident and totaled The Van! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
She was very quiet and said “Y, that’s not funny. It’s not funny at all.”
And I was all “I know it’s not, but! It’s either cry or laugh and I think it would be uncomfortable for both of us if I started to cry, so, Ha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaaaa!”
Yesterday we had to go get all of our personal belongings out of the van and release it to our insurance company so that they can take it to Van Heaven. ( I refuse to believe that my van is going to the junk yard. Van Heaven, people, it’s in Van Heaven.) As I was pulling things out, I started to cry, because for as ugly as that van was, I freaking LOVED that van.
Can I tell you the story of my van? Please? Because talking about it makes me feel better.
A few years back, my sister left her van with me when she went to NY. I fell in love with it. Sure, they’re ugly and people make fun of them, but dudes, you can open that side door up and let the kids pile in and to me? That was awesome.
When we decided that it was time to get a new car a few years back, I immediately made it known that I wanted an Ass-tro van.
“Really?” Tony asked, in a very disturbed tone.
“Yes, really.”
“What about a Suburban?”
“No. I want an Ass-tro van!”
“What about a, um, anything other than that big ugly van?!”
“No. I want an Ass-tro van!”
He did manage me to get me to agree to test drive a few suburban’s and other cars that I do not remember because I was obsessed with the dream of owning my very own van and therefore did not really pay attention to the stupid other cars that were not Ass-tro vans. However, none of those stupid other cars impressed me and so I was all “Let’s go back to the Chevy dealer and pick out ma’van!”
And it just so happened that they had the Perfect Van there waiting for me. White, with running boards, ski racks, power everything, privacy glass, etc and it was in perfect condition (only one year old.)
I’ll admit that at the time we bought that car, we were the worst negotiators in the history of negotiations and we did not get a good deal on the car (something that has haunted me for the past 6 years. Yes, SIX YEARS and we still had 13 payments left. See? I am not lying, we got screwed.) But, we were able to get the monthly payment that we wanted and so we signed the papers and drove off with Ma’Van that night.
And oh, how I loved that van.
In the 6 years that we’ve had it, I’ve not complained about it even once. I had nothing but pure love for that van. People find that hard to believe, because “it’s a van! And it’s ugly! Surely, you can’t love a giant, ugly van!”
But I did. I still do.
It was perfect for us. My boy’s needed me to pick up their friends from school? HOP RIGHT IN! Tony wanted to take the boys camping? Just pull out the back seat and everything fit! Unexpectedly pregnant with our third child? Not a problem! There’s room for 8 of us!
You wouldn’t believe the ridicule that I took for that van, and you would not believe how little I cared because screw you all, I chose it and I love it and you can all suck it hard.
I know that I sound like the biggest asshole in the world going on and on about a stupid van, but like I’ve said at least 2069 times in this post alone, I loved that van and was looking forward to hauling buttloads of kids around in it for at least another 5 years.
But now, it’s gone. Forever. And in just a few short days the insurance will offer us a settlement for it that will probably be just enough to pay it off and we will have to start all over with a car that I will hate with a passion because it is NOT MY VAN and it will NEVER BE MY VAN.
Now, if you don’t mind, would you please bow your head in a moment of silence for The Van?
Thank you.
NOT.
I always try to find the humor in situations. That’s what helps me through most days.
Laughing at myself, it’s “how I deal“.
But I can’t find anything funny about the fact that some woman didn’t look both ways before she pulled out onto a street that my husband happened to be driving on (with my daughter in the car) and that as hard as he tried to brake, he hit her and now our van has been declared a “total loss” and the difference between the amount we still owe and the amount of the blue book value is less than $3,000 and um, no one got the woman’s insurance information because she was injured and well, now we’re not only homeless, but also van-less and there’s just nothing funny about any of this.
I suppose I can take comfort in the fact that no one was killed, but not really because the woman was injured and Tony has a hard time walking and is in pain all day at work and my daughter is traumatized and afraid to ride in the car.
I suppose I’ll find the funny in this at some point, but right now, I can’t see it.
(Although, come to think of it “Hi! I’m Y and I’m homeless…AND van-less!” is kind of hilarious. Is it not?)
When did we turn into that gross “Older Couple” that your parents know but never invite over anymore because that ONE time I plucked his ear hair out with my nails at their dinner table.
You know you’ve been married for too long when you sneeze and immediately proclaim that “I just pissed my pants!” and your husband reaches into your underwear drawer without even blinking an eye and hands you a clean pair of underwear.
But then again, I don’t blink an eye when he bursts through front door after a hard day at work and declares that he will be in the bathroom for a while because “I NEED TO GO CLEAR THE POOP SHOOT CHUTE!”
And to think we still very much love to “Do It” with each other.
Dear God, Thank You For Wine. Amen.
I’m sitting here calling various utilities to have them shut off/transferred to my mom’s house.
Apparently, some of these mother fuckers are using “voice recognition” symptoms instead of the old fashioned “entering of a number” to get to the right agent to help you with all of your needs, which, by the way, is VERY IMPORTANT TO THEM because they love you and value you as a customer.
But, if that’s true, if they really value me then can someone please explain to me why these asshole voice recognition systems do not recognize simple answers like “ONE” and “NO.”
Why, God, WHYYYYYY?
I just about had a mental breakdown just now while trying to schedule the disconnection of my broadband.
Asshole Automated Computer Dude: If you are calling your high speed internet account, say “one”.
Me: one
AACD: I’m sorry, I did not understand your request. If you’re calling about your high speed internet account, say “one.”
Me: (a little louder and also slower.) o-n-e.
AACD: I’m sorry, I did not understand your request. If you’re calling about your high speed internet account, say “one.”
Me: (very loudly) ONE!
AACD: I’m sorry, I did not understand your request. If you’re calling about your high speed internet account, say “one.”
Me: (screaming like a crazy bitch from hell. No Seriously. I lost all control on this one.) OOOOOOOONNNNNNNEEEEEEE OHHHH MYYYYYYY GOODDDDDDDDD OOOOONEEEEEEEE.
And then I threw my phone through the window and cut someone.
Not really. But I wanted to because why must it be so damn complicated? AHHHHHHHHH.
Had this happened on a day when my stress level wasn’t THIS HIGH, I don’t think that I would have wanted to cut people over such a thing.
We have 2 days to be out of this house, so PigHunter took these two days off so that we can get out of here on time and um, well, we don’t work well together when it comes to these sort of things.
Anytime we attempt to do any sort of work that involves anything to do with a “house” (Painting, rearranging furniture, loading the dishwasher, moving.) you can bet yer ass that The Fingah will be used frequently and with great passion.
Now, when you combine the fact that we don’t work well together with the fact that he has gas and has to figure out EXACTLY WHAT CAUSED THE GAS, things are a leeeeeettle “tense” around here.
And things are going to to continue to be tense until we find our own place and are not living with my parents. (But, thank God for my parents, because without their generosity, we’d be making reservations at a Motel 6 right about now.)
Despite all of the craziness that is going on here, there are some good things happening for me, for us. And I’m trying to focus on those things and not on the fact that we’re technically “homeless” or that my husband is STILL carrying on about what could have possibly caused his gas.
So, um, how you doin’?
The Beginning of The End.
Cleaning out my children’s bedrooms has been the hardest thing about this entire moving process.
I’ve cried a lot over the past 2 days because of all of the memories that this place holds for our family. At the same time, I’m looking forward to finding a new place for my family, one that I’m not ashamed of living in.
There is so much I want to write out, so many things I want to remember about this process, about this difficult time in our lives, but finding time to sit down and do it is almost impossible right now because we have to be out of here by Saturday.
Hopefully, I’ll be able to carve out a few minutes tonight to write it all out, because I never want to forget this.
Until then, you’ll get pictures. AND YOU WILL LIKE IT.