RAH RAH RAH

My sister signed Tatum up for a week of Cheerleading Camp, her first day was today. She's very excited about. I myself have never been a cheerleader. This is an obvious statement to anyone who knows me. I hated them in highschool, and everything they represented. Stuck-up, stupid, rich, and mistakenly thinking they were better than others because they were "pretty" and "popular". Now that I'm in my 30s, I have no ill feelings toward today's spirit squads. As long as it's a POSITIVE group and experience, more power to them. You're always going to have your a-holes, that's anywhere and with anything I guess. Tatum was showing me some of the simple cheers she learned this afternoon. She had the stance and the shout down, she did some stiff arm movements and yelled, "DE-FORM! DE-FORM!" It was funny of course, but reminded me of how little she is. She has no idea what defense or deform mean, if she did she'd never confuse the two. Which leads me to remember I can't expect her to have adult logic and emotions. I think back to these things when my kids seem like they have to be completely strait jacket insane.

Freeze! Put your cans where I can see 'em!

So, I had some requests for a picture of my cantankerous previously mentioned co-worker. I regret to inform you that there isn't one readily available, and trying to take one of her would definitely arouse suspicion. Although she is not the sharpest tool in the shed, I think she'd realize my intention would not be to frame it and put it on my mantle, or stick it on a paper heart and put it in a scrapbook. So until I can think of a sneaky way to acquire one, I will put other things on that are related to her. In my blog, I mentioned the fact that Split Ends and The Three Bears live in an apartment right next to our workplace. There's an alley running behind the buildings, and we use it to walk to the gas station on the other side of the apartments to get refreshments. There's a little patch of woods on the other side of the alley. Mustering all of his creativity and construction skills, the b.o. boyfriend erected this gem to shoot at with a b.b. gun in all of his free, jobless time. I'm thinking about hiring him to do a little work around my house.

Hot Fuzz

On Monday morning, I went to the gym as I typically do. I took the girls to childcare, then I headed for the treadmill for my run, followed by reps on the machines, sit ups, etc. Before I picked the girls up, I stopped in the restroom to pee. My running shorts have that built in underwear. I still wear regular underwear with them, I'd feel too exposed if I didn't. Plus I sweat a fair amount, and I like having the extra barrier between my personal perspiration and my shorts. That's off subject. Anyway, I happened to look into my drawers when I was on the can, and I noticed a little pink tuft peeking out from the bottom of my built ins. I flipped them over, to discover the matted monstrosity pictured here stuck to the material. I think I was in shock for several seconds, then as I slowly came to I realized what it was and what had happened. For Tatum's birthday, someone gave her a Bratz hair care kit. I will not buy her the dolls and I won't let anyone else either because they are like hooker barbies. Anyway, this kit included hair extensions. One of them happened to be pink and blond. Somehow it made it into the washer, then the dryer where it became adhered to the crotch of my built in undies. Later on when I had more time to process the situation, I realized it could've been worse (or better depending on your sense of humor). What if it had fallen out while I was running? There are elipitical machines behind the treadmills, and there were plenty of people on them that day. Can you imagine that thing (it is actually like 4 inches long and 2 inches wide) landing on the belt and flying off in front of an unsuspecting gym-goer? I picture myself looking at them sheepishly and shrugging as if to say "What can you do, these things happen." They would've had a story to last them months. "You should've seen it! This pube dreadlock dropped right out and she acted like it was no big deal...." Maybe next time. Almost as awesome, I left it at my sister's in an envelope that said "Please take a picture of this and e-mail it to me, I'll explain later." (I don't have a digital camera). She e-mailed back "Yuck, I don't want to know what it is", but she removed it from the envelope and made sure to capture it on a white background so it would photograph better.

That Not So Fresh Feeling

Have you seen the vagisil commercial? The lady is impeccably dressed, hair perfect, makeup flawless. But when she looks in the mirror she only see a pale, haggard version of herself in a gray sweatshirt with the hood on. Why? Because she has that itch she can't reach to scratch. I saw this yesterday and thought it was the best TV ad I've seen in a while.

Who Cares? I Know I Don't.

We've all known one. The person who's constantly complaining. Either about their general health or place in life, or about other people- "He did this" She didn't do that" etc. They like to point out the shortcomings of others, whether fact or fiction. Never to the face of the those people though, to everyone but. They like to make sure everyone else knows that they're doing what they are supposed to be doing, and let everyone know they're always going that "extra mile", patting themselves on the back and hoping to get a pat from you. They spread negativity and drama like fairydust, leaving those affected by their misery (not me, by the way) feeling depressed and/or rejected.
I work with one, have for the past 2 years or so. I wanted them to fire her 2 weeks after she started. She used to work in my area, and I got her demoted to another one. She keeps trying to get back in my area- not as long as I'm there and have a pulse. She's shaped like a pear, she has tattoos and what I refer to as "lesions" on her chest, that you can see with the tops she wears. She drinks 50 gallons of coffee daily, she smokes like a chimney, she wears tank tops to work meetings that say "Got tequila?" . She asks people to borrow money (I am the only person she hasn't asked), she will be someone's friend and talk smack about them behind their back, she will ask for more hours and complain about money and then complain that she has to work so much. She has a boyfriend who does not work and weighs roughly 400 lbs. He used to try to get my boss to hire him for odd jobs around the business. You could always smell him immediately upon entering- a mixture of old food/grease, BO, and cigarette smoke. Because I'm so mature, I would stand behind the boyfriend, holding my nose and acting like I'm vomiting, so my boss had to struggle not to laugh.
She lives in an apt next to work (how convenient) with this boyfriend, his PARENTS (also not working) and about 20 pets. Apparently his dad has diabetes he doesn't control, and she often complains about his "oozing sores" on his legs. Between the animals, the dad, and the stinky buffoon, can you imagine what that place smells like? She brought blueberries in today that she "picked"!!!??? I declined to eat them, explaining to my other co-workers that she probably fertilized the plants with festering wound goo.
I know some people may be reading this and feel bad for her, or them- don't. They are terrible. Always looking for a handout, and blaming outside forces for their problems. They will not help themselves, and they never appreciate it when someone else helps.
At the same time, I do realize I have choices, and they don't recognize they've made any. They think they're who and where they are, and that's it. I was raised properly, I guess they weren't. I get it, and they don't. I will always be happy (with the normal bouts of sadness/feeling overwhelmed) and they will always be miserable.
I still hate her though.

Indy: A Constant Source of Irritation and Amusement

Here she is. As you can see by her expression (she alternates between confused and bewildered), she's not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. She's 2 years old. She thinks she's ankle high even though she's taller than both of my kids. She's afraid of thunderstorms and fireworks. She greets people by chewing on their arms and elbows- if you're a kid, it's your shoulder or head. She eats socks. Swallows them whole like a python. They come out the other end exactly the same other than the poop crust coating. I probably scoop 2-3 crunchy socks out of the yard weekly. She's learned to stick with the girls ' socks. She tried to eat Aaron's once and barfed it up. She also tried to eat one of my niece's burp rags and upchucked that as well. She likes to do a drive by nose flip on the trash can lid when she walks by it, you know, to see if there's anything good in there. One time she ate an entire chicken's worth of chicken bones. Because she's so gargantuan, I just popped the lid on the hydrogen peroxide and made her chug. I had to follow her around the yard and pick up her skeletal horks. It was night and I could only find the kid's cow flashlight, so I was mooing and shoveling. She likes to sit on laps and snarfs you in the butt when you least expect it. In summary, she is an awesome dog.

She stole the show all day on Monday. I was doing yard work, and set up the slip n' slide for the girls. Indy proceeded to gallop her laps in the yard (she vibrates the house) to include the slip n' slide, biting at the spray. The girls were cracking up.

Later I was reading them a book while they ate. They were looking for a wool producing animal in the book, and they said "What animal says "Baaaa"? A cow, a sheep, a cat, a dog?" Does a dog say "Baaaa"? On cue, Indy let out a low rumbly belch that definitely sounded like one. I thought Tatum was going to bust something.

Finally, we were watching a show, and I heard licking. Indy was at her nether region, which is what she does when her anal glands need emptying. If you don't know what those are, look it up. Anyway, I jumped up, shooed her out, and followed with paper towel. But I couldn't get around them with the paper towel in my hands, they were like golf balls!! I had to drop it and squeeze them one at a time. In my haste to keep her from spackling the house with her musky drippage, I forgot my hair was down. I accidentally hosed some in it. If anyone has gotten anal juice on them before, you know you can wash 80 times and still smell it or think you smell it, because the stench burns into nasal passages. The other day, my boss got some in the eye. I guess that's what happens when you put your winker too close to theirs.