aweome humanitarian

if you’re looking for another word for asshole…

by Shauna on October 27, 2008

try *teenager.*

ugh. can i just say that i loathe teenagers? and, unfortunately, i have expertise in the shark tank known as *teenager-dom.* and trust me, they all suck. and not like in a ‘oh, look, it’s a cute and cuddly post pubescent narcissist.’ no, it’s more like, someone grab me a rope and a pencil sharpener–this is going to be a doozy.

side note: ok, maybe i got a little carried away with the whole ‘pencil sharpener’ thing. really, i have nowhere to go with that. it’s just the first thing that came to mind. maybe i’m mcguyver? (and if you don’t know who mcguyver is, then you’re too young to be reading this blog)

so anyway, the latest episode in my “all teenagers are assholes” insight came this morning.

oy vey.

it’s no secret that our economy is in the toilet. BUT what might be a secret is this: neither tommy nor i have jobs. well, jobs that pay anyway. it IS a known fact that tommy sold his business over 2 years ago and has since been “retired” and i….well, i am just unemployed. basically i have no skills–except for my insane ability to master a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle in just under a week–but to date, it hasn’t paid off–monetarily–but inside, i feel like a million bucks.

where. can. i. cash. in. my. chips.

anyway, we live and die in the stock market. which, by the by, i TOLD tommy was a bad idea. whatever happened to stuffing your money in your mattress? huh? doesn’t sound like a cock-a-mamey idea now, does it? and that whole “what if your house burns down along with your mattress” thing? i got news for you people–our house hasn’t burned down yet. but the institution known as NASDAQ? well, that’s another nightmare altogether. can anyone say burning building?

so you know all those homeless people i serve at the shelter? all along you thought i did that because i’m a good person and all, but really, i do that because i’m trying to get to know my new neighbors. AND, i’m hoping that by working there i’ll get seconds when it’s triple cheeseburger night. (it all comes back to food–you notice that?)

we’re trying our best to cope in these difficult times. tommy sells his blood every four days, and well, i tried to sell mine but they told me i didn’t weigh enough. ok, so that’s not entirely true. the truth is i like my blood and prefer to keep it INSIDE my body. well, that and they ran out of cookies before it was my turn to go and i refuse (REFUSE!) to give blood and not get a cookie. i’m not a fucking idiot!

so tommy has been weak (from all the blood selling) and i’ve been cookieless and well, frankly, someone had to step up to the plate and stop the bleeding (pun absolutely intended). so i had this brilliant idea to sell my expensive car and get a less expensive, more teenager embarrassing type car. we might as well. we already have a prius, which about sent our 13 year old over the ledge when we announced its arrival. to this day she apologizes to her friends every time tommy picks her up from school in it.

oh man, do we laugh.

so i shared my idea with the older girls today, and their reaction was less than expected. no, scratch that. it’s exactly what you would expect…from assholes.

case closed.

need more proof? ok, so it went like this:

me: you know girls, times are tough. everyone is having to buckle down and tighten up. the whole world is contracting.

asshole #1: ooh. that’s gross.

me: what’s gross?

asshole #1: what you said about contracting. don’t say that.

me (sighing): what i’m trying to say is that i’m going to sell the range rover and get a more economical suv.

asshole #2: like what?

me: well, like the honda pilot. it’s a great car, we can all fit in it, and it gets decent gas mileage.

asshole #2: HONDA PILOT? OH MY GOD! SO WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TWO HIDEOUS CARS?

me (counting to 10 and then wishing the person who invented the whole counting to 10 thing would explode into like a billion pieces–IT DOESN’T WORK PEOPLE!): let me tell both of you this, right now. you suck. not only do you suck, but i wish you knew how much you actually sucked. but you know what? you can’t know that because you both suck and that’s your job–to suck. and i just have to deal with your suckiness…until you grow out of it…which won’t be soon enough…because you suck.

asshole #1: jeez mom, chill out. you’re so intense. we didn’t mean anything by it. fine. sell the car. just stop telling us we suck. jeez.

asshole #2 (crossing her arms across her chest and pouting): this is so embarrassing. are we out of money?

me: we? are WE out of money? i’m sorry. i wasn’t aware YOU had any. are you holding out on us?

asshole #2 (rolling her eyes now): you’re not funny.

asshole #1: so, am i getting a car for my 16th birthday or what?

and then somehow they both spontaneously combust. everywhere. little bits and pieces of assholishness spread like…little bits and pieces of assholishness…all over the floor. huh. weird. it seems counting to 10 doesn’t work, but wishing your teenagers would explode right before your eyes does.

oh great. now who’s going to clean up the mess on the floor?

Photobucket

{ 12 comments }

when you have 6 hours to kill

by Shauna on August 17, 2008

tommy and i left town saturday morning for jackson, mississippi for our friend, cathy’s 40th birthday party. it was going to be a short trip–leave saturday, come home sunday. the drive averages out to be about 6 hours–5 and 1/2 if i’m driving–7 if tommy’s driving. the difference is he likes to stop every hour or every 60 miles, whichever comes first. i am like a nazi when it comes to road trips–basically, everyone straps on a depends undergarment, is instructed to grab a bag of beef jerky and a bottle of water and is warned not to complain or you ride on the hood. this trip was kid free, so threatening tommy to tow the line or suffer the consequences seemed harmful to my well being (not to mention the last time i tried to strap him to the hood of the car for asking for the millionth time, “are we almost there?” i threw out my back–so i try and refrain from hoisting him over my shoulder whenever possible).

about an hour into the drive, we saw this station wagon pulled over on the side of the highway. it had a u-haul trailer hooked up to it that had lost a tire along the way. the people were standing outside the car sort of scratching their heads. i imagined they were wondering what the hell happened. i turned to tommy and said, “why don’t they just unhitch that trailer and have a wrecker come tow it away? that’s what i would do.”

he said, in his very tommy sort of way, “what if that’s their valuables and they don’t want to just abandon them on the side of the road?”

pfft. “what valuables? it’s a 4 foot by 5 foot trailer. what could they have in there that’s so valuable?–their kids?” and then i added, “if i was traveling along and had my kids in the back in a u-haul trailer and it blew a tire, i might see that as my opportunity to ditch them. it would be HOURS before they realized they were no longer attached to mom’s car. by then i could be half way to california.”

tommy laughed, “you would not.”

“oh yes i would buddy boy. BUT! if i had my handbag collection in the back of the u-haul trailer i would wait all day on the side of the road for someone to fix it. no siree. you wouldn’t catch ME leaving my purses to fend for themselves. what if they were absconded by thieves with no appreciation for marc jacobs or fendi.”

tommy sat silently for a moment and then said, “you know you’ll never get that mother of the year award if you keep saying things like that.”

i waved him off. “that ship sailed a long time ago. i have a better chance of getting eaten by a shark. oh wait. shark attacks are more and more prevalent these days. why, just a few weeks ago ryan seacrest was attacked by one.

tommy looked at me, his eyes widening. “is that true?”

“well, sort of. it was a baby sand shark and it bit his little toe. i don’t even think it broke the skin. technically though?–shark attack.”

tommy rolled his eyes and said, “you’re unbelievable.”

“i know. ooh. scratch the shark attack scenario. i have a better chance of getting struck by lightening in our front yard than of winning a mother of the year award.”

tommy chimed in, “do you remember a few years ago when lightening struck our house?”

i did not remember this. “was i there?”

“yes, we all were. it happened in the middle of the night.”

“so basically, i have been struck by lightening and technically our house is IN our front yard. you know what this means don’t you?”

tommy looks confused. “what?”

“i’m totally going to win a mother of the year award!”

he REALLY starts to laugh now and says, “don’t hold your breath.”

he was right. who was i kidding. “i won’t,” i conceded. “wait. can you die from holding your breath?”

“yes, ding dong, it’s called suffocating.”

“i thought you needed a pillow for that–or a plastic bag.”

“nope. i think if you hold your breath long enough you will die.”

i was dumbfounded. why are we not teaching our children–AND the children of the world the dangers of holding your breath. i made a mental note to send an email to the surgeon general about maybe heading up a special task force to help educate the public on the dangers of holding one’s breath. outrageous. and right under our noses. well, the good news is, now that we know, we can stop it before someone gets killed. i just hope we’re not too late.

a little while later we see an suv with 2 hot pink deer stickers on the back. i’ve seen these before but never pink. and never 2 on one vehicle. i think it means they hunt or something like that. i said to tommy, “look at those stickers. i wonder if the pink deer head signifies a woman hunter.”

tommy quickly added, “2 women hunters. maybe they’re lesbians.”

i shook my head. “man, can you imagine a worse place to be if you’re a lesbian. it’s a wonder the good folks of mississippi haven’t strung them up by now.”

tommy said, “worse than a lesbian hunter in mississippi would be a NON hunting lesbian–who is also black.”

“and a liberal.”

“and worships the devil.”

“and burns the american flag on a regular basis.”

“who is also a vegetarian.”

“and jewish.”

“who just had an abortion.”

i think we about covered it all. so, the person who has it the worst in mississippi is a black, jewish, flag burning, devil worshipping, peta loving, liberal lefty, non-meat eating lesbian who just had an abortion. does such a woman exist? she sounds so exotic, no? i started thinking: where COULD this person live? i settled on canada. they’ll let about ANYONE live there.

a little while later we pulled over and tommy took over driving. it wasn’t long before we passed a highway patrolman going almost 90. i wanted to warn tommy but it was too late. the cop already had his lights on and was quickly approaching. tommy seemed to think he was going after someone else and i was like, “dude, it’s you.”

we pulled over and waited as the officer handed tommy a citation for going 86 in a 60. and all i could think was, “i’m soooo glad it wasn’t me.”

we got back on the road and tommy was now cruising along at 58 mph. something had to be done. according to my calculations we really needed to be nearing 90 the whole way to get there on my schedule. i demanded he pull over and let me drive. after balking a little he did as he was told. i patted him on the back and said, “don’t sulk. maybe i’ll get pulled over too and then we could have matching tickets. then you would realize i’m not perfect. i’m human just like everybody else–only a tad better.” silence. “you DO think i’m perfect right?”

without looking at me tommy said, “nope.”

“almost perfect?”

“not even close.”

hmm. well, miss not-even-close-to-perfect didn’t get caught speeding and had us there in record time.

now where’d i leave that damn mother of the year award? oh right. i was told i shouldn’t hold my breath. aww. tommy really does care.

{ 2 comments }