Anytime I write a dramatic post in which I talk about such dramatic things as “running out of gas” and “brakes not working”, DO NOT PANIC. Chances are, I am fine and that nothing really bad happened. (Because, if it had, I wouldn’t be sitting at the computer writing about it. And also, remember, I am the woman who called the cops because she thought The Bees were trying to kill her!.)
I had a million (but really only 3) things to do on Saturday. It was Ethan’s last basketball game of the season before playoffs and it was the day we were finally going to celebrate Gabby’s 2nd birthday, Chuck E Cheese style, y’all.
Because I wait until the last minute to do everything, (because I work best under pressure. Seriously, just ask my 12th grade history teacher who once told me “you’re pretty good when you’ve got a gun held to your head.”) I decided to run to Target before the basketball game to put all of my pictures on a CD so that I could clear the memory card out for G’s birthday party.
When I got in the car, the gas gauge told me that I had a 78 mile range. Taraget is less than 5 miles away, so I decided I was good to go as far as gas was concerned.
It took FOREVER(40 minutes) at Target and so I knew I had to rush home if I didn’t want to be late to Ethan’s game. When I started the car, I noticed that the “78 mile” range had suddenly turned into “Low Fuel” and the warning light was on.
The Hell?
I didn’t panic because a) the gas station was just a couple of miles away b)Tony ALWAYS tells me not to panic because even when it says “low fuel” there is (and these are his exact words) “PLENTY OF GAS! So quit nagging me to fill up, woman!”
Halfway home, I felt the car (and when I say “the car” I mean “the big ass van that I love so shutup with your stupid judgements about moms in minivans!) start to shake and lose power and so I started to veer to the side of the road, but then, I lost all power and all engine functions and I could no longer steer! Or USE THE BRAKES! I was pumping and pumping and turning the wheel as hard as I could, but I had no control. There was a red light up ahead, so I really started to freak out. Then, the greatest thing in the world and also the thing that would PISS MY HUSBAND OFF SO DEEPLY happened. The step/runner thingy (man, I’m impressive with my knowledge of the actual names of parts on my van!) hit the curb and as the metal/plastic whatever the hell it is scraped along side the curb, my car finally came to a stop.
DEATH AND COLLISION AVERTED!
I realised that there were only 40 minutes left until Ethan’s game, so I frantically searched for my cell phone, the cell phone that had ALMOST NO BATTERY LEFT, so that I could call Tony and tell him of the horrifying ordeal that I had just been through.
Call #1- Not answered
Message #1 left on our answering machine- “OH MY GOD! Why aren’t you answering the phone! I ran out of gas! On Foothill! And I had no brakes! I’m shaking! I need gas! PICK UP THE PHONE! OMG!”
Call #2- Not answered
Message #2 left on our answering machine- “MY BATTERY IS DYING, I can’t believe you’re not answering the phone! I need gas! Answer the phone!”
Call #3- Not answered
Message #3 left on answering machine- Well, I’ll just let you go ahead and listen to the actual message. (And yes, I told my family that they SUCKED.)
The battery was quickly running out and even though I was within walking distance to my parents house. (Seriously, I was literally around the corner from their house.) I called my dad and was all “Dad! Tony’s not answering my phone calls and I ran out of gas! I need help! I’m going to miss Ethan’s game and Gabby’s party and MY HUSBAND IS A BIG FAT JERK FOR NOT ANSWERING THE PHONE.”
The thing about my dad is this. He doesn’t like when I talk bad about my husband, you know, the whole “the man is the head of the household and woman! Obey your husband” thing? Yeah. So his first reaction was “Hey! Don’t get mad at your husband, he’s a good father, a good man and you should be more loving…”
“Dad! I’m stranded on the side of the road! I had no brakes! I need help and my husband won’t pick up the phone!”
“Well, Mija, maybe he’s busy.”
“Dad! Please! Ok, can you just please bring me gas?”
And he did, because he’s a good dad. A good dad who followed me to the nearest gas station to make sure I didn’t run out of gas. A good dad who is also a preacher. And do you know what dad’s who are preachers do? They preach! At every given opportunity and apparently, me running out of gas and freaking out about it was “a given opportunity.”
“Mija, if you freak out about running out of gas, what are you going to do if you’re left behind when Jesus returns? They’ll be no gas, no food, no water… WHAT WILL YOU DO THEN?”
(At this point, he’s talking in “preacher voice” which means, he was kinda yelling and so people were stopping to watch.)
“Ok, dad, I would probably freak out, but what you’re not understanding is that I did not freak out because I ran out of gas, I was freaking out BECAUSE MY HUSBAND WOULD NOT ANSWER THE PHONE AND THAT IS SO ANNOYING AND RUDE.”
“But MIJA! YOU NEED TO BE READY FOR THE RAPTURE! GET READY, MIJA!”
Oh. Pastors.
The last thing he said to me as I drove off was “HAHA! I’d HATE to be your husband right now!”
Because he knew that my husband was going to get it when I got home.
I did go off on him for not having answered the phone, to which he played dumb and was like “I didn’t hear the phone! Weird!?” But, we’ve had this conversation 2039509 times. About how when I’m gone, he needs to keep the phone nearby, in case I need to get a hold of him. And yet, every.single.time that I’ve been “on the road” and needed to get a hold of him, he has not answered the phone and I’ve had to call a friend or family member for help.
The best part was how when I told him about how I had accidentally hit the bottom of the car against the curb (because, you know, I had no brakes, or control of the steering wheel) he actually GOT MAD AT ME and was like “You need to be more careful” and “Did it leave a mark?”
OH MAN.
I swear, sometimes? He’s so cute, that he makes me want to punch him in the neck! Repeatedly.
(And yes, it did leave a mark on the bottom side of the van, but, it could have been worse. I could have ran the red light, and killed someone, or ran into a pole and died, but I didn’t, so can we move past the giant scratch on the side of my van and thank God THAT I AM ALIVE TO BLOG ABOUT THIS? PLEASE?)

On this day, I was an innocent, happy, trusting 11 year old girl excited to learn more chords on my guitar.
My guitar lessons were at my his house. My dad usually waited inside the house, but on this day my dad decided to drop me off so he could run some errands during my lessons.
I knocked on the door and expected Larry’s wife, Debbi, to answer the door like she usually did. But today, Larry answered. My dad sat in the car waiting until someone answered the door. I asked Larry where Debbi was. “She’s at the store, she’ll be right back.” I didn’t like that she wasn’t there and I didn’t want my dad to leave. Larry waved at my dad and shouted “We’ll see you in a few!” My dad didn’t have any idea that Debbi wasn’t home. I wanted to shout out “Don’t leave!” But I didn’t. I watched as my dad drove off.
***
I started to open my guitar case right there in the living room. I assumed since no one else was home, we would have the lessons downstairs. “What are you doing?” He asked. “Taking my guitar out so we can start.” I replied.
He looked at me in a way that made my stomach turn and said “No, I have other plans for you tonight.”
Fear swept through my body. I had no idea what he meant, but at that young, innocent age, I knew that something was terribly wrong. I felt panicked, scared and confused.
“Leave your guitar here and let’s go upstairs.”
I wanted to run. And scream. And tell him “NO!” But, just like the little girl who peed her pants in kindergarten because she was too afraid to speak up, I kept my mouth shut and did what he told me.
I could feel the tears welling up inside, but I fought them back. I didn’t want him to see me cry.
As we were walking up the stairs, he started to take his shirt off.
Jesus. Help me. Help me Dear Jesus.
He took me by the hand and said “I want you to give me a good massage.” He then went on to tell me that I was such a good student and he just KNEW that I’d give good massages. He told me that I was his favorite student and he felt closer to me than to anyone else.
I thought I was going to puke. I was shaking. I told him that I needed to go to the bathroom first.
“That’s fine, you go ahead, but HURRY. We don’t have much time.”
I locked the bathroom door and started to cry. I tried to keep it quiet, but I lost control and began to sob.
All of a sudden, Larry started banging on the door.
“Why are you crying? Stop that! Get out here and give me that massage!”
Here I was, an 11 year old girl, sobbing and crying for my dad. Obviously, I didn’t want to give him a massage. Obviously, I was terrified. HE DIDN’T CARE.
He started to get angry and bang on the door even harder.
“Come on! Get out! Now!”
I remember to this very day how scared and helpless I felt. I wanted to run away. I wanted my daddy.
He stopped banging on the door and told me he’d be waiting for me in his room. After a few minutes, I tried composed myself and went to his room.
There he was, in his underwear, laying on his stomach waiting for me. I started crying again.
“Don’t worry, it will be ok.” He said, with a grin on his ugly face.
I touched his back, and instantly felt sick to my stomach. He was hairy. So damn hairy. His skin felt disgusting to me. It felt dirty.
“Do it harder. Move your hand lower.”
“I don’t WANT TO.” I cried.
“You have to. You’re a good girl, Y. You do what I tell you.”
A few minutes into it, we heard a car pull up. He JUMPED out of the bed and ran to the window. He thought it was my dad and it scared the shit out of him. It wasn’t my dad, but he was startled enough that he told me I had done enough and began to put his clothes back on.
He told me to go wash my face and that I shouldn’t tell anyone about it. He said my dad would get very mad and that if I told, it would make him sad and I didn’t want to make him sad, did I?
When my dad came to get me, Larry greeted him at the door with a big smile and told my dad that the lesson went well and bragged about what a great student I was.
I remember standing there in disbelief. He was lying to my dad. With a smile on his face. In that moment, I hated him.
I never did tell my dad.
Why is this moment significant in my life? Because on that day, I had walked into that house an innocent, trusting little girl with not a care in the world, and I left a scared, mistrusting girl who felt dirty and bad. I had been violated by someone that I looked up to. If that wasn’t bad enough, I had been manipulated into keeping a secret to protect someone who didn’t deserve protection. It was on that day that I learned to keep quiet about things that hurt me because I didn’t want to become a burden or make people sad. I didn’t anyone to know that I had touched a half naked man in such a gross way.
I wish I had told someone, because then maybe someone would have been able to tell me that “it wasn’t my fault.”
The 11 year old little girl who felt so gross and dirty really needed to hear those words.

This morning, at around 6am, I hear a the horn of a car go off about 6 times in a row. Two very long beeps, followed by 4 short ones.
My first thought was “Who in the hell thinks it’s ok to honk at 6 am? Do I need to go punch someone?”
But, I was willing to let it go because I was tired.
A few seconds later, MORE REPEATED HONKING. This time, I wasn’t going to let it go because whoever this asshole was had crossed “The Line.”
I don’t understand people who are too lazy to get out of the car and knock on the door. It’s acceptable sometimes. Like, if it’s raining, or if the person knows you’re on their way and you tell them “I’ll beep when I get there.” But most times, I think people who do that are just being lazy and rude. However, when you do that shit repeatedly at SIX IN THE FREAKING MORNING, you’re not only lazy and rude, you are also A BIG DICK! Congratulations!
I was seriously ready to kick some dick ass after having been woken up by an inconsiderate honker. I ran outside, found the Honking Offender, made eye contact, raised my hands up in the air in the “What in the HELL” position and screamed “Get out of YOUR CAR AND KNOCK, DAMMIT.”
Apparently, Dick Honker didn’t know who he was dealing with because instead of fearing me, she, ( and you’re not going to believe this) HONKED IN MY FACE. She looked right at me, laid her hand on the horn in dramatic “screw you!” fashion.
I can not tell you the rage that burned inside of me. My first reaction was to run with my bra-less self and fight her!  But I had sleeping kids in the house and who runs to fight someone when they have little kids sleeping inside?

Just one more reason to LOVE this ‘hood of mine.
As if I needed Another.
freaking.
reason.

Last night my grandpa was rushed to the ER. His potassium level was dangerously high and his kidneys began to shut down.
He’s not doing well, but being carefully monitored at The Veteran’s hospital.
I can’t even begin to describe the fear and sadness I fell at this moment because my grandfather is more important to me than any words could ever express.
I can’t write about it right now because emotions are running too high. I took a 2 hour nap while my daughter slept, I’m grumpy and have cried about everything today.
I’ve tried to keep busy with Gabby to take my mind off of it. We spent the entire day playing, reading books, singing together and also, completely ignoring the incredible amount of housework that needs to be done.
I’m feeling regret for not visiting him more often and yet, I haven’t been able to make myself go see him in the hospital for fear of what I’ll see. I don’t want to see him weak or in pain and I realize that is so damn selfish because he wants to see me.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m being a selfish coward. I need to go see him.
And I will go see him, but I’m telling you, it’s not going to be easy for me at all.
Funny how the most important things in life are always the hardest.

Saturday night was a “Girls Night In” at a friends house. A Passion Party followed by a game of poker.
The Passion Party was hilarious. Perhaps I should have taken it a little more seriously, but, there are products with the word “Nubby” in them, so, I think you can understand why it’s One Big Vagina joke to me. Don’t get me wrong, I think the products are great and the parties are awesome and everyone should have a party, but, still… NUBBY!
This time, I was tempted buy a dildo for my the dash of my van, and one to use as a “whip” to threaten my children with.
“Clean your room right now or I will whack you upside of the head with this here purple rubber penis!”
As you can see, I do not take dildos very seriously either. I’m sorry, I just can’t. Especially the one that has A FACE AND A BEAR ON IT. I know there are people who are really into those things, but, um, I’m NOT one of those people.
I do, however, take my Ben Wah Balls very seriously.
Ok. I’m lying. I absolutely do not take them seriously. Infact, I almost spit out my drink when she brought those shiny little balls out.
I was like “Ha! HA! HA! I’m sorry, ben wah balls KILL ME.”
However, as funny as SHINY METAL BALLS are, they do serve a purpose. They are used for a very important “test”. A test of tightness. No! Seriously! If you can “hold them in” for any lenght of time, then “your man is surely a happy man.”
Excuse me for one minute.
HA! HA! HAAAAAAA!
After the Passion Party, it was time for a game of poker.
I had never played poker before and to be honest, had no interest in learning how to play. I picked up my purse and was ready call it a night. But, the wimmins had other plans.
“We’ve already set a place for you. You’re so much fun, you HAVE to stay and play.”
That’s right. People think I’m fun! And they want me to stay and play poker with them!
(That gets the “Award for Blogger Who Brags About How Much Fun People Think She Is and How It Makes You So Sick You Want To Puke.”)
I was given a 2 minute crash course in poker and to the Very Awesome Poker Table we went.
I caught on pretty quickly, although, I was very annoying with all of “my questions.” How is one supposed to learn if one does not ask questions?
A few hours later, I found myself one of the last 2 players and the player with the most chips, but, in the end, I lost to someone who has played many, many times, BUT! I still won $20 for second place and had people doubting my “I have never played poker nor do I know how to play poker” story.
Don’t hate me because I’m a fast learner.
I had such an incredible time. It was the first time in a very LONG time that I didn’t have a million hangups or “issues” before going to a social event. Usually, I spend a great deal of time worrying about how fat I am, or who will be there, or if people will think I’m annoying, or if people will annoy me and so on and so forth… but Saturday night, I made a decision early in the day that I wasn’t going to think negative thoughts, or worry about stupid things like “being the only fat girl there”. I made a choice to HAVE FUN regardless of the size of my ass (which, by the way, is significantly smaller these days).
I told my husband how great it felt to let go of all of the negativity that usually keeps me from having a truly good time at most social events. He smiled and said “I’m so happy for you, baby, you are a fun person, people enjoy being around you and you should accept that and ALWAYS have fun like you did last night.”
It’s not easy for me to accept compliments, but I believed my husband when he said that, because I want to believe it.
I’m sorry, but how is it possible that a post in which I used the word “Nubby” took a serious turn? How did I allow that to happen.
That never should have happened. The serious ENDS HERE!
Howza’bout we get a little “random” instead…
Who is the GENIUS who thought “Hey! I know! Let’s make a stuffed animal WITH DETACHABLE BODY PARTS because the babies will love ripping off monkey heads and it will be a JOY for the mother’s to have to repeatedly put them back on throughout the day to stop the babies from crying because THE HEAD FELL OFF AGAIN.”? Do you know who that guy is? Because if you do, tell him I’m looking for him, I’d like to “show him” how grateful I am.
Ethan team lost another basketball game on Saturday. The brings their record to 1-6. Andrew also lost another game on Saturday, which brings his teams record to 0-7. The good news is that this is the first weekend I did not get into a fight with the refs nor did I get into a fight with the scorekeepers, so, really, everyone was a winner.
But THE REAL WINNER here will be my husband, in about 2 weeks, when a confidential black bag will arrive that will contain a very special passionate gift that I refuse to tell you about, other than to say that it is “rubber” and it is in the shape of a heart.