Meeting People is Fun (but not really)

 I was walking with a friend today. It's hard for me to define "friend" because I have a really hard time letting people get to know the real me, so "friend" really means anyone that I have shared any personal information with and that person has not run away in the opposite direction screaming,
   I have a very dark past, and it is difficult to relate to people because of that. I can't speak my mind to most people because they may recommend medication or therapy at least. The kinds of thoughts that I find conversation ready include:
 - All Bon Jovi songs sound the same to me
  -I used to date a guy who paid $50 for a strip of construction paper because he thought it was blotter acid
 - Did you know that some guy in 1948 dropped dead right on this very spot, I read it in a newspaper!
 - My baby pooped in the tub last night and I had to use an aquarium net to fish it out.
  -I'm pro-choice but I would never get an abortion.
  -My neighbor's brother committed suicide by hanging himself from this tree.
   -I love David Sedaris' work because he is a loser and so am I and now he's famous.

  Anyway, I mentioned to my friend that I was weird and antisocial and that I had a hard time making friends, especially with other moms because I talk about weird things. She laughed and turned to me " I think Bon Jovi's songs all sound the same too, I think you're wonderful!" Hence: Friend.
 

Hi, I'm Bruce Meester!

  This afternoon the baby and I were driving to the grocery store when  I realized that we hadn't been for a walk in months. I detoured and we ended up walking down a country road for 3 miles, a walk I used to take every day. I'm glad we did because I found a brand new burned CD on the side of the road. 
   I inserted the CD in the player and listened to a recording of 8th grade student Bruce Meester. He owns a Honda motorcycle that he uses on his paper route which earns $45-50 dollars a month, but his mom has a rule that if he doesn't clean his room he pays her 10 cents for an unmade bed or clothes left on the floor so he doesn't really like that rule. Also his friend got some developing paper for Christmas which he used to develop some pictures of Bruce popping wheelies on his Honda.
   This may have been the most awesome CD I have ever listened to. the first track was Bruce talking about his life and then his 4 brothers came on different times to talk about sports, the fall of Lucifer (seriously, the five year old explained the fall of God's favorite angle) and what they got for Christmas. The rest of the CD, 19 tracks, was soul music.
   I must find this Bruce Meester.

Poor Us

 I have an acquaintance, I suppose. I guess the most you could rank him at is co-worker of a loved one. Anyway after the catastrophe in Japan this acquaintance posted on his facebook page something along the line of "oh great, now gas prices are really going to go up".
   Usually when someone says something assholish on their facebook I hold my tongue/index finger and ignore it. But seriously, what a dick comment.  So I made a comment that belittled him in my passive aggressive sort of way: something along the lines of "yes that is truly the worst part of this disaster".  He replied with an explanation of how he understands how things are "difficult" for the Japanese but that we should realize that our already tanked economy will tank further.
  Yes, poor us.

Hold Thy Tongue Foul Woman

 I have a relative that is in a very bad relationship. The relationship, as far as I know, is not abusive but in its nature has, by accident produced a son . To my relative I am cordial and admire her beautiful son. However, deep in my heart, I hate the mother flipping a-hole that impregnated her and I desperately want to tell my relative that she needs to get rid of that waste of space and raise her son herself because she would be much better off.
  The reason I hate the "father" is nothing casual. This person has no job, drinks all day, smokes his bullshit  "medical" marijuana constantly and has never, not ONCE mentioned his child. He comments on hotboxing his friend's car "HOTBOX ENGAGE"  but ignores the fact that his kid has taken his first step. I also hate him because I had to explain/confess to my mom what "hotboxing" is.
  But I can't say anything, which makes me hate this 'hamburger' even more GHAAAAAA!

Gossip Monger

     So two weeks ago H-man loaded a bunch of crap into the back of his truck and drove off, he hasn't been home since.The other night I changed the locks on the house.
  Oh, the old lady tongues in our neighborhood must be a-wagging. For almost two weeks now no one has said a word to me, this after a year of non stop questions and advice. Nothing. Today I had several different neighbors come up to me and ask how me and the baby were.
  I offer nothing as to the state of my affairs. I smile politely and say "oh, just fine"  I'd  rather they don't know, because, frankly, that's much more fun.
 The Husband has taken on a job for the next few months down South. On his way out of town I had him take a bunch of our excess crap to our storage unit. A few days ago I noticed that our front door knob was falling apart so I went to the hardware store bought some supplies and changed the knob out (that's what she said). Our next door neighbor was trying to be inconspicuous about watching me but as I wrestled the hardware into place (er, that's what she said?) I couldn't help but notice her face staring out from her kitchen window.
  He comes home on Saturday. I propose we have a big screaming match in the driveway before he takes off. But I guess we'll see what happens.

Ah Yes.

• I go to the bathroom. I reach for the TP and realize that there is none there. I turn around and see the unraveled tanglement of TP heaped on the toilet tank. "Oh, that's right" I say to myself, "I have a toddler." 
•  I slip in antipasto and a little bit of banana. 
• I gather stares from people at the supermarket "that's right, I'm hot" I say to myself. Then I realize I have tanbark all over my ass from the playground.