Well.

Can you believe I actually forgot about Ye Olde Spongeblog, it's been so long since I've posted?

I had decided to take a little break from posting because I felt I didn't have anything positive to write anymore. And, really, if I'm going to have a blog where I use real names and am somewhat identifiable, I shouldn't bitch so much. Really -- it's not ladylike. :)

So now, four months since my last post, I think it's time to do something here. To either start writing again, ditch Spongeblog entirely, or start up a new anonymous blog -- an Anonoblog, if you will. While I contemplate this, I will give an update on all that is my life:

I'm in an okay place in my life right now. Not "happy" per se, but getting there. The job is working out lovely, school is kicking my tush, but I love my classes this term -- abnormal psych and nutrition. Ryan is doing amazing. We're working on transitioning him out of his SpEd class, he's visiting a "regular" first grade class for about 2 hours a day, and kicking ass at it. Next year, I plan to have him in a regular second grade class most of the day... as long as the curriculum can keep up! He's doing mostly 3rd grade work: writing in cursive, multiplication and division... He learns so easily, and for that, I am so thankful. Ryan is still in karate, he has advanced to yellow belt now, and I believe his progress in school is partially due to the discipline taught in karate. I love his karate. I only hate the bad smells coming from the adult students. Pew! Homies need to wash their feet, y'all. It's NASTY.

We are more than ready to move out of my parents house and into a place of our own -- but are having trouble finding a place. Rentals are hot out here right now, and with my bad credit, we're getting turned down regularly. The rejection is tough, but I'm confident that the universe will provide for us, and when the right place for us is available, we'll get it.

And now, Ryan and I are headed off to Bandon to visit the state park there. We're going to tour the lighthouse and take pictures to send to our little ChemoBuddy.

See? It's not all swearing and bitching in the Land of Lisa... :)

You know you have PMS when...

... you are working diligently on a 'study guide' for one of your classes, when you look at the screen and actually read your notes:

Language Development p 246… (p. 321 black book)
... and this is where I just quit giving a fuck. Seriously, woman. The fuck? In my book the required book for this class, page 246 isn't even PART of the class. And what's a black book? My book has a black KID on it -- is that your black book? Really, homie, I don't think it's okay to call a book 'black' just because there is a black kid on it. But-- nope. Page 321? not part of this class either. So, what? Is including random page numbers FUN for you? Just want to see if we're paying attention? Because I'm paying attention, woman. I'm paying plenty of attention to the fact that YOU SUCK! Why'd you include page numbers that don't correspond with the $80 book YOU REQUIRED ME TO BUY?? And why the fuck does this bitch say it's due in 2005? And for that matter, when I e-mailed you about the due date of this LAME ASS study guide, why didn't you reply? Last time I checked, that's your fucking RESPONSIBILITY. As in, you're cashing the checks for TEACHING this class, so fucking TEACH it.
Clearly, you are only fit to teach the preschoolers that you are attempt to teach us about. Go back to the ABC's and the 123's and leave the college classes to the 'real' professors.
---

Think I should turn it in like that?

Bugs me.

How to bug me, part 7,142:

After prattling on and on and on about yourself for twenty minutes say, "Oh, enough about me. Let's talk about YOU!"
And then, as soon as I say, "Well, I'm-" cut me off and start talking about yourself again.

Yeah. Sure-fire way to bug me.

Dream a little dream..

Usually, I have random, meaningless dreams filled with random, meaningless sex. (joking on that last part) But last night I had a strange dream that not only did I remember in the morning, but that woke me up at 3:28 in the morning. Remarkable. Dreams never wake me up.

So, without further ado, here's the dream:

I was in a car (a Pontiac, but not mine) with my mom, Ry, and someone else (other person is obviously not important). My mom was driving.

It started raining, and my mom wouldn't turn on the windshield wipers, despite my protests. She kept claiming that she could see just fine, which is a total lie because my mom can't see for shit. And it was raining really hard.

And then she started speeding up. I remember dream-hollering, "You're going 80! Slow down! The speed limit is 35!" But she wouldn't listen, she just kept saying that she could see just find and to hell with speed limits.

And I knew, I just knew that the crazy bitch was going to get us all killed, so I made sure Ryan and I were buckled in nice n' tight, but I ignored the extra passenger in the car.

So on and on and on we go, me telling my mom to slow down and turn on the goddamn wipers, and her saying she could see just fine... And I tried to turn on the wipers for her, but she slapped my hand away.

It was just bizarre. Then I started waking up really slowly and gently... and I was half-in and half-out of the dream for a few minutes while I woke up, which was totally rad.

So yeah. Everyone at work took a crack at analyzing my dream, which was entertaining.

I'm convinced it means that crazy bitch is gonna kill us.

How Old?

When people meet Ryan, they often have trouble believing his is as old as he is.
"But he looks like he's 4 or 5!" is usually exclamed upon discovering that he is seven.

Yet

When people see the math Ryan has done, they have trouble believing he is as young as he is.
"But that's third grade work!" is usually exclamed upon discovering that he is seven.


Small and smart. What a perfect combination.

Tech Support

Alternate Title: Why I will NEVER again answer a computer-related question with any response other than "Hmm.. Interesting."

When I say: "Possibly an IE problem. I would advise you make sure you have all your Windows updates. Go to Start: Windows Update and get everything it says you need."
It DOES NOT mean: "Go to Windows Updates and only get the smallest updates available. The bigger ones aren't necessary -- even if it says they are. They just take seventeen hours to download."

When I say: "Remove the program using the Add/Remove Program feature in the Control Panel"
It DOES NOT mean: "Find all files with names looking vaguely similar to the name of the program you want to remove. Delete these files at random."

When I say: "I'm not sure, but if it were my system, I'd re-install the program and then uninstall it properly, by using the Add/Remove Program freature in the Control Panel"
It DOES NOT mean: "Go to your Registry and, at random, delete anything that remotely resembles the program you want to remove."

When I say: "You're fucked. Shoulda done what I told you to do."
It DOES NOT mean: "It's my fault. Please accuse me of fucking up your system and whine to me all day long about it."


Seriously. The fuck?

Seven is hard.

So, for the first time in his seven years on earth, Ryan tried to run away today.

Over a lost remote and some confiscated Bionicles.

Yes, it is as stupid as it sounds. The child has exhausted me today, so when he lost my remote (the one he isn't allowed to use without permission because he LOSES IT EVERY TIME) I confiscated his Bionicles, claiming I would have to sell them in order to purchase a replacement remote, unless he found it. He searched, but couldn't find it, so after many tears, he slammed every door he came across and went to his room, sobbing.

I waited a few minutes (to avoid being attacked) and went in there. He was putting sweatshirts and jackets on hangers, and lying them on his bed. I asked what he was doing. He wiped his eyes and looked at me, "I just can't handle this nonsense anymore. I'm leaving." Then he burst into tears.

I suppressed my laughter and went over to hug him. He turned away and said that he was moving out. He grabbed another sweatshirt from the closet and laid it with the others.

I wasn't sure exactly how to deal with a kid wanting to run away, so I sat down in front of the door and started asking questions.

"Where ya going?"
"I don't know."
"How you gonna get there?"
"My dad will come get me."
"Did you ask him?"
"No. I'll call him now."
"I don't have his phone number. Now what?"
"I don't know. Guess I'll get a job."
"The law says you can't work until you're 16."
"Then I'll open a business."
"What kind of business?"
"A pet finding business."
"Gonna drive around to find the pets?"
"Oh. I don't have a car!"
"Ride your bike?"
"I... I don't know how!"
"Oh dear. Hm. Might be hard to find pets walking around."
"I guess I'll have to move to Utah."
"How you gonna get there?"
"I'll take a taxi."
"Do you know how much that costs?"
"Like 5 dollars."
"No.. more like $400. Do you have $400?"
"No."
"Where will you live?"
"I'll build a house!"

And on and on and on it went for like an hour. He kept bursting into tears whenever he discovered his plans were foiled, running to me for some cuddles, and then going back to packing.

Finally, I folded. I just couldn't take it anymore.
"Ry.. remember how you felt at the store earlier when you got lost*? You looked pretty scared. When you found me, you were crying pretty good. Do you think you'd feel that way all the time if you ran away?"
He pondered that while I went on, mentioning how he had told me we have an "invisible string that connects us to each other, a string we can never ever cut" and asking if he was really going to cut our string.

"Can I say a bad word, mom?"
"Okay. Just one."
"I just can't take this shit anymore, mom. I'm having a hard day!"

And more tears, more hugs, and he suddenly decides he doesn't want to leave anymore.

Ten minutes later, he found the missing remote and got his Bionicles back, but not until he promised he'd never ever run away and leave me.

But hot damn! It's like he's got his period or something -- the kid is constantly having meltdowns over the everything! Every day, it's a new batch of drama in his little world. Seven had better start improving -- I can't take this shit either!


* Not really lost -- I noticed he wandered away for the fourth time today (after being warned three times) and stood just out of his view, watching him. When he started to freak out, I popped back into view and let him "find" me, faking my panic rather well.

Book Learnin'

Okay, so I changed the template. It's quite pink, dontcha think? I fully intended to tame down the pink, but got distracted by my classes being finally available, and discovering that Holy Ratshit, Batman! This is gonna be a lot of work.

My preschool child development class? Expects me to write papers every week. On preschoolers. And apparently, I have to observe them ? And form a group with others in the class to write a research paper.
And I know that it's COLLEGE, of course I have to WORK, but I took internet classes in part to avoid the whole 'working with other students' thing. I HAAAAAATE group projects.

And algebra. Oh, algebra! How I hate thee! But how I love my teachers edition book chock full o' answers.

And the other class -- I forget what it is -- isn't available yet, which is good, because the main book is still not here. The other 47 books I had to buy for the class are, though.

Anyways. Off I go to do some algebra. Hopefully, I can finish next week's assignments tonight. Heh. Of course I can! I've already got the answers.

Work

Have I mentioned before just how much I love my job?

Golly.

Okay. Truth: I hate that I have to be there at 8am. But, with the help of those ever-adorable Dutch boys and their sweet, sweet nectar-of-the-gods, I can be awake and cheerful upon entering the office.

And despite the fact that one of my co-workers makes me want to call him bad, bad names sometimes because he is such. a. fucking. TOOL. I really enjoy it there. I spend a lot of time laughing (at myself, usually) and a lot of time typing and even more time playing hearts and/or freecell (because I am SO BORED with solitaire and minesweeper) or reading chick-lit when the boss isn't there, which is usually one day a week.

So, yeah. I'm happy. (I know. It's weird. Give it a few more months and I'm sure I'll be writing a "I hate my job" post. That is much more my style, isn't it?)


In other news: Ryan starts karate and I start college on Monday. Rock!

G'bye, 2005

So, 2005 is almost over. Can't say I'm sad to see it go, really. Not that it was bad -- aside from the sleeping on the side of the freeway thing and the having to see my ex thing and all the stupid dramatics with my father, it was good. Or okay at least.

But 2006? 2006 is gonna kick ass all over this town. Thats right, bitches. It's gonna be good.

I haven't made any new years resolutions since 2002, when I resolved to quit smoking. That one went so well that I was afraid of jinxing myself.. so I skipped the resolving.

I've been smoke free for THREE YEARS (I think.. I start my math class next week, I'll double check my figures then) and really? that just rocks, so maybe I'll give this whole resolution thing another shot.

That is.. if I can think of anything worth resolving about.
I'll think about it.

Why?

I took my lil' guy out for a birthday lunch at our favorite local chinese joint. (Rhymes with Yucky Car) this afternoon.

As we were greeted, Ry announced that it was his birthday. Free ice cream was promised. Rock! Chinese food AND free ice cream? Life don't get much better, folks.

So they seated us at a booth, as usual, and we sipped our tea and ordered our grub. While Ryan ate his egg flour soup and I stirred mine idly, I noticed a smell. A just-peed-in-my-pants smell. I'm a mom -- there's no mistaking this smell. Someone pissed themselves. "Ryan!" I whisper-yelled, "Do you need to use the restroom?" He said he was fine and had not peed himself. He was a little mad that I accused him. Seven year olds don't pee their pants, mom!
Puzzled, I smelled our soup. Maybe... it WAS a different waitress.. you never know, right? Wrong. No pee in the soup.

I asked Ryan if he could smell it. Nope. He smelled nothing.

Our food arrived, and I tried to ignore the fresh piss in favor of my mar far chicken. Not gonna happen. After two bites, I had no appetite. But since Ryan couldn't smell it, and the only people sitting next to us were two old men (oddly, who had been proclaiming their needs to go to 'the can' to wash up as we sat down....) and the old men hadn't seemed to notice, I assumed it was just me. Until I learned to add and put two and two together. Old men + 'the can' + fresh piss = One of those fuckers pissed himself!

And the waitress KNEW IT! And sat us by them ANYWAYS! Despite the FOURTEEN empty tables!

And I know that bitch knew it, because after the piss man left, they cleaned that booth WITH BLEACH and then commented that the overpowering bleach smell (that ruined my appetite even further) was 'better than it was before.' !!!

And because I'm stupid? I sat there. I watched Ryan eat his food, but didn't touch mine. I SAT THERE, MARINATING IN THE PISS (AND LATER BLEACH) SMELL AND DIDN'T SAY A WORD TO ANYONE. And I even left a tip.

Because I? am an idiot.

Will I ever visit that establishment again?

*sigh* Probably.

Happy Happy

A very happy birthday to the most delightful, charming, adorable seven-year-old in the world.



And I swear to George, if this morning is any indication of what I have to look forward to for the next year, I will sell you to the gypsies.

I love you, pooper-scooper.

the day in between.

I hate the 26th of December. It's like a 12-year-old. You know, not quite a kid, not quite a teenager.. just sorta sitting there, all gangly and awkward and messy. That's today. Not quite Christmas, not quite Ryan's birthday. Just... the day in between.

I almost wish Ryan had been born on December 26th. For two reasons: I like even numbers (despite being born on an odd day of an odd month), and then I could have a gigantic two-day Christmabirthday Bonanza.

But then, I realize that it would make him yet another day older, and I just couldn't handle that.

Not that we're celebrating Ryan's birthday this year, anyways. No birthdays for Ryan in 2005. He decided he wanted a summer party -- so we're putting it all off until June. (Hopefully he'll have some friends by then so I'll have people to invite! Heh..)

---

Anyways. Christmas was great. There was nary a cheap kitchen gadget in sight. (Mrs. Alkie must have heard my complaints.) Ryan got four Bi0nicles (among bunches of other things), and upon opening each Bi0nicle, he squealed with delight and ran over to give me some smoochies. Made the hours of shopping all worth it, yaknow.

I had taken Ryan over to the Mall From Hell with $10 so he could buy me some 'jewelry.' And yes, I know that $10 for jewelry isn't really jewelry, which is why I put it in quotes. He's in Husband Training, folks. Knowing to buy a woman jewelry is Step 1 of the Christmas Shopping Lessons. Step 2 is going to a real jewelers. Patience. (And moms of daughters -- he is currently accepting applications for Wife #2. Wife #1 has been selected already.)
Anyways. He went to Claire$. I was fairly confident he would pick something that I'd at least be able to pretend to like. He has good tastes.

Or so I thought.



In addition to the gorgeous necklaces*, I got toe rings. 6 of 'em.

Deeee-lightful. I am a lucky, lucky woman. My lil' guy spent all his money on me, on things he thought would make me 'beautiful.' And if he wants, I'll wear all six of those hideous, cheap plastic necklaces every single day with a smile. (And as soon as he's out of sight, I'll take them right back off, but shhhhh..)


Oh, I also got toothpaste and dental floss! My teeth sure do appreciate that. Thanks, ma!



*Picture taken with my new Cellie McPhone. That would be Ryan modeling the gorgeous necklaces, just don't let him know I showed you that picture.

Random

My thoughts are too random and unorganized lately to form them into more than a sentence or two, so I'll just throw out some bullet-points. Enjoy!


• Just about done Christmas shopping. Did not get The Alkies a $5 gift card to the mart o' walls, as planned. Got them a useless kitchen dodad instead! A Ge0rge F0reman grill, but even better, it's a generic Ge0rge F0reman grill! Hell yea.

• Frustrated with Christmas being forced upon Ry at school, I muttered something about becoming a Muslim in front of the sitter. She said she'd kill me if I did. That's Christianity for ya, folks. Woo! That's LOVE! LOVE for our fellow man!

• I have a feeling Pa of Ry is locked up again. *cough*Exactlywherehebelongs*cough* He hasn't returned my call in which I mentioned panties. Hence, he is either locked up or dead.

• I totally got a picture phone. Hell yeah. I feel so feckin' cool.

• The ol' GranDam hit 100,000 miles. I totally stopped and took a picture.

• Had been hoping for a nice Christmas bonus -- then realized that my work is the type to give gift certificates to 'upscale' restaurants. Yuck.


Well, that's about all I got. I'll leave you with some random advice from a co-worker:
When someone starts talking all Jesus to you, and you just don't want to hear it, say: "You know all that WWJD stuff that was popular a while back? Well, I know what Jesus would do. He'd SHUT THE HELL UP!"
Haaaaaaaaaha.

It's beginning to feel a lot like...

Nope. Sorry. I thought I was feeling a bit of the ol' Christmas spirit, but I guess it was just gas.

***

What is making me happy (thus far) in the cold month of December:

1. Chocolate-covered cherries. Just.. yum. And cherries are a fruit, so they're totally healthy. Right?
2. Mint flavored everything. This time of year, I don't have to explain my passion for mint mochas (NOT pepperment. Gag!) I can find anything I want flavored with mint. Heaven.
3. Eggnog. I buy it every year. Then, I pour a big ol' glass, take a swig, and gag. Because, I hate eggnog. I like it, in theory, but we don't live in theory, do we?
4. A paycheck. Goodness, it is like pure bliss to be able to spend money again. And getting paid only once a month? Makes for big fat checks that give the impression that you're RICH -- filthy, stinkin' rich!

Hm.. guess that's about all the happiness I got right now. Well, it's enough. I got a box of chocolate-covered cherries and some mint-filled chocolates in front of me and a quart of organic eggnog in the frig. Perhaps I should go pour my yearly glass?