Thursday, May 21, 2009

The Post By Which I Alienate More Readers and Make MathMan Wish He'd Married That Nice Girl from Kentucky Instead

UPDATED: Because at 1 o'clock something in the morning when I really have to pee, I don't edit or scan for typos very well. I also added a link to explain Les Nessman for those not familiar with WKRP in Cincinnati and the song isn't really called Zipblahblahblah. I believe it has something to do with bluebirds crapping on my shoulder or something.


Because the nice girl from Kentucky never had an opinion on anything.

I've heard from another one. One of those people who thinks I've gone all soft since I stopped blogging about political things. Says they miss the rants of the old days. Oh yeah? Well stick around because you're in for a rant and a half. And I'll squeeze politics into it even if it's awkward and hurty.

First of all, while I'm sitting here typing this, The Dancer is just yapping the fuck away at me. Does she not see that I'm typing? I swear to you, she is sitting here telling me about all sorts of things including the cat shit she stepped in as she walked in the door just now. She just got home from the studio where the annual orgy of taking company and recital pictures was taking place. It's the kind of thing that used to make me wish I'd never taken her to that first dance class. Now that she can drive, I don't have to stand around the studio all damned night, but I did make the mistake of staying up until she got home.

And now she's talking to me about how she gets hot at night while she's sleeping and and and I can still her voice, but I can't make any sense of it. It's 12:14 a.m. and I'm seeking peace and quiet and this brilliant child is not reading my body language that says "see these Les Nessman walls? see me typing here? what does that tell you?" I hate it when she's a teenager and she wants me to be a mom after midnight.

As if I didn't do enough for this kid today. I worked from home to attend the awards program at Garbo's school so I was available to drive Garbo and The Actor to school this morning while The Dancer slept in. Hence her alertness after midnight and so it's my own fucking fault that she's sitting here talking to me right now.

The Dancer and I left skid marks getting out of that stupid elementary school awards (citizenship award? artistic award? most creative award? most creative thinker award?) I had to rush The Dancer to her school for an afternoon chorus class. When I dropped her off she mentioned that I should pick her up at 3:30., but she would text me if she got done sooner. Fine. I drove the 14 miles home in her car with the clutch that hates me.

All the while, I was exchanging texts with The Actor who was making a case for skipping school the last two days of this week. I finally did what any good parent does in that situation. "I'll discuss with Dad and let you know." Ah, yes, the old stalling method. Why carry that monkey on my back alone?

I was home just long enough to open up my favorite porn site when I got a one word text from The Dancer. "Done." To which I responded "R U Fucking Kidding me?" I closed my porn window, wiped out my internet history, zipped up my slacks and made the 14 mile trip back to The Dancer's school to pick her up.

On my way, I saw Garbo getting off the school bus. Good thing I wasn't looking at porn after all. She waved me down and asked to ride along. I got to spend the next 15 minutes listening to her tearful lamentations that she should have gotten the artistic award instead of the penmanship award and sniffle, whine, something something.

I was trying to drive the car with the clutch that hates me, maintain my sanity and still not make her feel badly about the whole thing. Finally, I could take it no more. "Those awards are just bullshit, Garbo. They're subjective and stupid and unquantifiable and who cares? You know what you're good at, where you excel. Now stop whining about it before I wreck this car and kill us both."

My pronouncement of bullshit was quickly followed by my typical disclaimers that she need not go to school the next day and explain the world according to Lisa. The last thing I want is a call from the principal asking me to expand on what I mean by calling the awards "bullshit." Although, I'd be more than happy to tell her exactly what I mean.

Helper award, indeed.

On our way home from picking up The Dancer, Garbo, who is very locust like when she comes home from school, announced that she was starving. My empty stomach growled in agreement. We decided that we'd stop at the hot dog joint that serves Vienna Beef dogs. It was 3:13 p.m. When we got to the door, we were met by some guy who was not the owner. He explained that "she" was closing down. He jerked his head in the direction of the counter which we couldn't see because it's blocked by a center island that runs from floor to ceiling.

I eyed the good ole boy suspiciously, but Garbo, The Dancer and I left, grumbling. The sign says they are open until 3:30 p.m. for goodness sake. A bit later, it occurred to me that I should have raised a stink about it or at least grabbed a menu by the door so I could call the place to complain. I mean, what if the guy who said they were closed was actually robbing the woman behind the counter and that was a great way to get us out of there. Of course I know that's not the case, but it did make me think that I should question more of the petty nonsense in life just in case.

MathMan just came into the room carrying his laptop, wearing nothing but his underwear. He was half asleep so he didn't process that The Dancer was sitting on the floor grinding on my last nerve with every little petty grievance from her evening. When last I saw our hero, he was breathing loudly and doing school work late into the evening. Finally, he'd had enough, grabbing his laptop, announcing that he was going to go watch Dick Van Dyke on Hulu, he shuffled off to the bedroom where he watched the opening credits and promptly fell asleep.

Well, there's a fine how do you do. I go to the trouble of entertaining him with my version of Zip-a-dee-doo-dah in as many voices as I can manage AND by accidentally squirting Reddi Wip up my nose when I missed my mouth and he has the nerve to skip out and leave me to listen to The Dancer's tales of woe?

And so another busy day comes to a close (12:53am, 1:20 a.m.) and the martyr rereads her words, noting what's missing. Oh yes. Work. Squeezed into all of that other jackassery is the cleaning, the laundry, the full time paid work, phone calls to doctors and dentists and random odds and ends of things I have to do to help keep this place humming in its giddy whirl of activity.

Oh and not to mention all those blogs I'd opened in Firefox tabs only to have firefox crash so the feed was gone and the window closed so I don't know which blogs to go back to.

So if I want to sit on my ass and blog and read blogs and laugh at funny things instead of grinding my teeth at the news of the day or just fuck around all evening seeing how much I don't know about my facebook friends or watching youtube videos of nothing in particular, well then, I hope some of you will understand. I don't ask much of you, do I?

Oh, yes - the political. Here you go......somehow all of this is the fault of George W. Bush and Dick Cheney. I just know it. In fact, let's just say it's the fault of Monsieur Le Torture himself, Dick Cheney. He's cleverly disguised torture as parenting and he must think that I'm part of an Al Qaeda sleeper cell sitting right here in the middle of nowhere Georgia, plotting an attack on the American Way of Life.

Thank goodness for Dick*. He's keeping us safe one over-programmed child at a time................

*You heard me.

43 comments:

  1. "Les Nesman walls"... OMG, I love you.

    One of the major drawbacks of homeschooling the youngest this year is dealing with his habitually staying up until 2 am reading when I want to stay up until 1 am writing and then SLEEP, not talk.

    So yeah, I hear you. Loud and clear, sister. Just don't point that Rediwhip in my direction. I'm lactose intolerant. Pity me.

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  2. Just remember, they never really leave. Sure, there's college and marriage and the military, but those are momentary ... until your six feet under, they will be there no matter how much you want some alone time.

    Oh, yeah, as you get older they're positive they get smarter. And soon enough, they're condescending as hell.

    BTW, if you're using Firefox on an Apple, switch (it's very easy) to Mozilla's Camino ... it's Apple friendly.

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  3. Your first mistake was being outnumbered by spawn. The second was not handing out a diversionary task when spawn wants to yak at an inopertune time. Always keep an impossible task handy for just such occasions.
    Also time to teach the life skills. Tell her she gets to play adult and get ready to have a place of her own by doing the laundry, dishes and vacuuming. She'll feel real grown up.
    And if you're real lucky they'll grow up and have kids just like them and face the same nightmares you now experience. You are then free to chuckle smugly.

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  4. Sherwood so gets that "can't you see I'm typing" thing.
    Of course, when he wants a bit of conversation and information - kids are nowhere to be found.

    Your day sounds a lot like mine.

    (Except add in the part where I spend my second lunch hour of the week driving around actually looking for you-know who.

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  5. That is why I wear earphones while typing on my laptop.

    May today be better!

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  6. I am telling you to ignore those assholes.. no not the kids... the letter writers...lol

    The kids are up to you.. you had them.. lol

    Tell the e-mailers to go to hell, if they have a problem, write their own blog if they have something to say or want to bitch about something. That's the best way, why do they expect you to bitch for them?

    Tell them to get a life and call someone who cares.

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  7. Geez...you piqued my curiosity by promising to alienate me, and all I got was a fleeting, albeit perfectly delivered throwaway line about masturbation:

    "I closed my porn window, wiped out my internet history, zipped up my slacks and made the 14 mile trip back..."

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  8. Lisa, don't let anyone tell you "how to be," here or anywhere else. Take it from me. Just be Lisa.

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  9. It is a wonderful life...isn't it? Haha...you're too cool!!

    Great read,

    Phil

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  10. Granted, I'll have all the fruits and annoyances of a spawn that cares about succeeding in life in The Future President, but all of the work sure the hell beats all the anguish of having a kid that doesn't give a fuck about anything remotely resembling convention, including school or rules.

    I loved visualizing Les Nessman's way-ahead-of-his-time boundaries.

    I feel like him at times, like everyone thinks I am being completely absurd and batshit crazy when I say, "This is me setting my boundaries/ saying no/ answering your question/ saying what I need," and am met with, "Why are you freaking out?" Saying "no" is not freaking out..., but it might as well be.

    Love you.

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  11. uh huh! I'd elaborate but I'm barely conscious and hardly coherent from way too many days just like that.

    and they say we'll miss it when it's over. really?

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  12. It's good to see you acknowledge all the good that Dick does. Dick is a necessary evil. (We are talking about the same thing, right?)

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  13. P.S. - Are there nice girls in Kentucky?

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  14. I like reading your blog posts. If they don't aren't they free to go elsewhere?

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  15. Sweet-friggin-Jaysus-in-a-speedo..Les Nessman woman? I was giggling like a mental patient over that imagery.

    And they never do go away..unless they end up like me and avoid you and Mathman for a decade or two. ;) So, start alienating them NOW!!!!

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  16. Lisa, darlin,
    I'ma need that'ere porn site.

    Oh, and what you said: children are the bane/joy of our lives. . . .

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  17. Stop listening to the hate-uhs! I'm so lame I did an Ant Rant today. But I did drop a lot of eff bombs.

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  18. Maybe you need to put down tape to indicate where the "Les Nessman walls" are!!

    As for Firefox crashing, I had trouble getting at your blog today, it kept crashing and giving me an error message. Finally got to it by going to Utah Savage, then TheMom and finally from there to you. Must be something screwed up in the Intratubes.

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  19. If Mathman can read this post and not want to jump you, he's not the man you've described him to be. Fuck that nice girl from Kentucky.

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  20. Having children sounds to me like a little too much trouble.
    Hell, I get annoyed when the phone rings half the time, much less having someone chattering to me while I'm on the computer.
    I guess that's why I knew not to breed back in the days when that was an option.
    Anything that starts with agonizing labor pains can't possibly end well.
    :/

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  21. Surely children over the age of 5 should be able to understand the concept of "on the clock."

    After bedtime, they're on their own. Bedtime should be... 6 p.m. or so.

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  22. right now, I am locked in my bedroom for the day and it's only 10:35AM! I have a daughter who is 27! and a husband who BOTH want to chat and I want to scream and cry and just read my precious blogs so leavemethehellalone....hmmm, I do get you and say tell them[family and media] to go find what they want elsewhere, you are not there anymore[or at least right now]...geez, can't a person change and be who they are (there are so many places for the word fuck in this monologue)? I say it's your blog lisa, remember? you write what you want and I will continue to come here first so I can chuckle (or hysterically shriek)to my heart's content without one mention of the Oma or the past politicos...OK? I love you... and you've got kids that are TOO smart, just like me and believe me when I say, it will never end until you just close the door and be crazy for a few years...that works but may not be the answer you want to hear if you were actually wanting one, which I don't think you did, I digress again...but I do love you just the way you are, you cute little thing.
    XO

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  23. you're not too hapy then?

    I've got a daughter who phones and bends my ear usually at a time that isn't convenient to me. It doesn't get any easier she is 32 this year. And she moans about school. She's a teacher. As if i couldn't moan about school enough myself.

    Hope you get some peace

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  24. When I saw your headline featured on "I Didn't Get The Message", I just had to check it out. It's my first time to your blog and I'm so glad I stopped by-- You are a hoot! I'll be back again soon.

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  25. I used to get awards in elementary school and middle school, much to the chagrin of other students. I was one of those overachievers, but inside I was totally miserable.

    I had no social skills, one actual friend, and was extremely depressed---I wouldn't be diagnosed with depression until I was in my late teens. So, you're right. They are totally subjective and often the domain of kids who have nothing else in their lives except academics.

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  26. Great post from beginning to end.

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  27. Les Nessman Walls!!! LOLOLOL!!!! Does MathMan have to knock before entering? Too freaking funny, lady.

    Lisa, I have to tell you that what's been bugging me - and I've not been able to vent about it - is better (not perfect but better) and I think may get even better. Someday soon, I'm going to strain our friendship with an email detailing the whole thing. In the meantime, make sure you know where your mouth is with the whipped cream next time.

    Oh, and your kids? Yeah, all those prizes ARE bullshit, and they probably didn't win because the school was afraid to give all those damn Golden kids every fricking award there is, which they so richly deserve.

    I am always thankful for Dick. Most people I know are.

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  28. You don't like to parent after midnight? I draw the line at 10 pm. My kids are always getting annoyed that I don't listen with avid interest to every pearl which falls from their mouth . . . guess what, little people? Some of it is just WHITE NOISE to Mommy!!

    You need a desert island for a day or two. With a laptop.

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  29. Sometimes I find myself doing the same think to my folks, just busting in and talking on about something they care nothing about. They still listen. I try and remember that when Slim is boring the shit out of me, but man, is it hard.

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  30. I'm with Bubs: I got to the line about you zipping up your slacks and felt very "adolescent".

    Gold post, Lisa.

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  31. I am stuck on the title so I can't say anything else.

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  32. I'm too overloaded as a parent myself, at this point, to come up with anything clever. But I get what you're saying here. Teens are nocturnal animals, and they seem to wake up and come looking for conversation just when we're completely worn out and everyone else has finally gone to bed. Here, though, we try to work with those parameters, because it's often the best and most revealing conversation we get from teens, and we DO want to know what they're thinking... Youngest is only 10 and he's recently started in on this same behavior schedule. Dearest and I were comparing notes on it just last night, when we were having our best recent alone conversation - between 2 and 4 am... OK, I'm not sure who's the most nocturnal. and at our age we pay double for those goofy hours.

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  33. They didn't have all those fake elementary school awards when I was a kid. Neither did we get to dress up in graduation caps and gowns when we moved from kindergarten to first grade. I definitely feel cheated.

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  34. Man, I got tired just reading. And yeah, what's the porn site. Color me curious.

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  35. I'm still laughing at "I closed my porn window, wiped out my internet history, zipped up my slacks and made the 14 mile trip back to The Dancer's school to pick her up." Zipped up my slacks!--LOL! I love that you're not afraid to write anything! :)

    And anyone who doesn't appreciate your awesome writing--no matter what you write about--can kiss my ass!

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  36. Reading your blog makes me what the most Natural Marital State of Man is, Bachelorhood or Matrimony.

    Because Man is born single, and especially because of Mathman's misadventures, I am forced to conclude that Bachelorhood is the most Natural and Healthy State of Man.

    To the Monastery I go. Mathman is Welcome to come with me.

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  37. Hooray!! It works! I can comment. It's not much of a comment but I can do it. Thank you!!!
    And, like I told you before, I so hope that you will do a video of you doing the Zip-a-dee-doo-dah song. I will pay you in Ready whip to see that!

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  38. That was a fascinating melange.. My oh my, what a wonderful day!

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  39. Anon - I wonder how you know what's best for me? or anyone other than yourself?

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  40. This makes me glad I only had one spawn and she is grown....this was very entertaining

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