Those of you who read the “Blurting about the Hurt”post last Sunday probably have put two and two together and already know that Mother’s Day is not a good day for me. I absolutely positively undoubtedly DREAD this day each and every year for the eight years Boog and I have been married. So far today, I have been throwing a pity party for myself. I know better, but I am doing it anyway. Boog is napping when I feel like he should be distracting me. I know it is not his job to help me get past my issues. They are my issues, but I want him to do something or say something to make it all better. Some of you are probably canceling your subscription to my blog because you are tired of my issues. I am tired of my issues too. I am beginning to write about them a little more freely as a means of working through them. You have the option of clicking the little X at the top of your page, but for me it is more serious than closing out a web page.
As I have been reading blogs today, I have come across the usual sentimental posts, and a few that are not so sentimental. I could write an entry today about my own mother, but I cannot find the words. I could write an entry about my sister, but that just brings up the hurt about me not being a birth mother. I could write an entry about the wonderful real and virtual mothers I know and adore, but that only makes this feeling grow stronger.
I discovered that that I have a new label … one that bothers me more than I thought it would. I am a childless stepmom. Typing it makes me sob uncontrollably. it is a label that I am not totally willing to accept. After googling it, I learned that I am not alone, and there are many other women out there who are dealing with the same issues I have. Maybe I am not ready to take on the alternate label of bonus mom, but I know this much is true.
We now know why I was such a psycho hose beast for the past week. You were a casualty of the PMS war raging in my body. I know the way I was acting was “somewhere between Christmas and being buried alive,” but like Howard Jones eloquently versed it “things can only get better.”
Until the next episode …
I love you to the sky,
Your adoring wife also known as CV
P. S. We can even go see Iron Man tomorrow if you would like me to make it up to you.
I suspended a frequent flyer and huge pain in my arse insolent little 14-year-old gangsta wannabe student today for five days. I know you want to know why. He threw a huge wad of chewing gum into a substitute teacher’s hair for telling him to stop distracting others and to get on task. It took every ounce of self control I had not to call him a turd and punch him when he said she was “just a substitute.”
I still am LIVID. This poor “guest teacher” was very appreciative of my support and stated that she would be back, but I know differently. She will go out into the community and tell educators at other schools how terrible our students are or what an awful experience she had because of this “decroded piece of crap.”
But, wait, there’s more.
His grandmother (his legal guardian as mom is a crack head who had her rights taken away when he was two years old) thinks that I am picking on him. That officially settles it. Stupidity is hereditary. Apple … tree.
Parents are restricting their teenagers’ use of social networks like MySpace more and more because of Internet predators. In turn, teenage girls are returning to using slam books in droves.
You remember slam books. You know the spiral-bound notebooks that were passed around junior and high school classrooms back in the day where students add comments, often anonymously, to preset questions (like today’s surveys, bulletins, and memes). Today they are notorious for insulting or humiliating the person named at the top of the page. If you have seen Mean Girls, they are often referred to as “Burn Books.” Trust me when I say that school administrators hate these things. I confiscated one in the cafeteria restroom today. There were over 20 female students named, and what follows in this week’s Thursday Thirteen are the worst of the worst “burns” I read from said slam book.
13 Burns about Female Students at In Da Hood Middle School
1. ho’ lez thief
2. shit bag bitch ass hoe mother fucker
3. the biggest ho biskit in the world
4. skankier than stank
5. queen of cream
6. hands out hooker coupons for half off blow jobs
7. Beware of her slut oven!
8. pussy ass ho bitch shit face cock master
9. cunt faced whore
10. trailer park whore nazi
11. trailer trash Barbie
12. skank a dank
13. Wanna whup her heiferbitch ass at 7-11 after school?
I have said it before in other posts, but I’ll say it again. Teenage girls are mean little fuckers.
Kenergy finds a way to say this to me each and every day that I am having a bad day. She must look at me and be able to tell that I needed to hear it. I was so happy she reminded me today that I am pretty. The last few days I have felt and undoubtedly acted like a psycho hose beast. I really do not want to go into details, but I have come to the realization that Boog and I are on separate shifts for a reason. I am going to leave it at that because I feel pretty damn ugly today and probably should not write a post about how much I want to strangle just about anybody and everybody and bury them in the desert.
On other notes:
I feel pretty today because Sistah CJ gifted me with a gift only a banned book reader could appreciate. Check out my new bracelet:
I feel pretty today because I told Devil Wears Purple how I felt about the quadruple copied email she sent me last week and her lack of direct communication with her administrative, teaching, and support staff, and she was speechless. No, she did not apologize yet, but I rendered her speechless.
I feel pretty today because I had two teachers tell me they appreciated me in front of two teachers I know talk about me behind my back.
I feel pretty today because I am pretty.
And, if that doesn’t make you feel pretty today also, I don’t know what will. Happy Monday!
If you are reading this then this warning is for you. Every word you read of this useless fine print is another second off your life. Don't you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? Do you read everything you're supposed to read? Do you think every thing you're supposed to think? Buy what you're told to want? Get out of your apartment. Meet a member of the opposite sex. Stop the excessive shopping and masturbation. Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you're alive. If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned.
~ Tyler Durden
