help

How do you put pics in your blogs on here? I have a very important story to tell/write/blog, best narrated by pictures.

I am totally out of touch.

Ok. I woke up this morning and was browsing the television and I came across a rap music video. It featured the ugliest (since Flavor Flav) black man I have ever laid eyes on. I tried to listen and give him the benefit of the doubt (I was quite the triple six mafia fan when I was 14 or 15) but I just didn't get it. So I googled the lyrics. I still don't get it. So let's pick it apart.


Back On My Grizzy lyrics(What is a grizzy? According to dictionary.com, its not a word, so I don't know)
Bitch im back on my grizzy, Young money where ya at?,
Two tables and a mic, Tell the Dj run it back,
Bitch im back on my grizzy, Young money where ya at?,
If you fuck wit Younh Money, Yougn Money where you at?,
Like the energizer bunny wit a battery pack, Boy that drummer keep drummin,
like B-r-r-at-at-at-tat,
Or B-r-r-rump-bum-bum-bum, (I can't imagine how many pills he had to pop to become creative enough for what you have read so far)
Im so young but im a Giant like Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum, (this is unbearable)
Just bought a new crib, And insides so dumb,
Got some money put away, incase the hurricane come,
Im a fuckin shame huh?(YES
yea i know yea i know,
I go out the country to get all my clothes and my hoes,
And i go out my way just to get my dro and my doe, (DRO SOIUNDS FAMILIAR, DOE IS A DEER- A FEMALE DEER)
Cause, I love it more than i do my hoes yes i doess,
I got gasoline comin out my pours, Imma torch, ((I THINK WE HAVE ANOTHER HUFFER)
I got glasses like that white boy Scott Storch, (I GOOGLED HIM, HE'S A CANADIAN RECORD PRODUCER)
And a porshe, I got license for tha scortch,
Snipers at your porch, Rifles by the forts,
And we shoot up courts, The judge juss a bitch, (Seriously. This is what kids are listening to.)
The jury suck dick, Im a eastside blood, (Ok, according to Snoop Dog, a Blood is a gang)
And i dont smoke that crip, I smoke that kutch, (and a crip is a gang. apparently from the WEST side)
First name Bubba, First names Young, Last name Stunna, Carter in the office, (your name is bubba Young Stunna Carter? Well, NOW I understand why you're so ANGRY! Your mother hated you!)
Take notes when im talkin, Smooth as a cruz boat floats when im walkin,
I boast cause im ballin, I boast to be ballin,
When im on the phone wit bitches man the money keep callin,(wha?)
You aint satisfied till ya son'll be callin,
Tellin you where to leave the money in the mornin,
Ok you wanna zombie mover instead,
Thats when you walk in ya house and everybody dead, (again. I'm not sure.)
I can take a shit where i stand, (I'm sure that's very impressivce, but please do NOT take a shit where you stand.)
Where i stand...and watch you pussies piss in ya pants, (I think Lil' Wayne is into Golden Showers)
You aint a man your a hoe, I can kill him with the flow, (actually, it's "you're". I dont know what the flow is. I thought it was rapping, but does it actually kill? Lets ask Tupac.)
And then play the guitar at the fuckin funeral,
Big guns so they drinkin big shots,
And my gam go Saddam Hussein and missile launch, T
he Corrain call me Wayne Chain, Listen ma,
i dont know karate, but after the brain,(my head hurts)
i kick you out, You niggas suck like tony romo, no homo, (WHAT? WHY is Bubba so ANGRY?)
And im all about my money, i get paid for promo yeaa,
Im the man in this bitch, they say money talks wel..
Im tha ventriloquist, And if i ever jump, ( I think we should stop in a minute. These lyrics are so deep I can't even work with them)
il prolly land in ya bitch, (GROSS!)
Boy that hoe colder than my hand and my wrist,
Boy im more cooler than a fan and a mint,
And when im done this track we'll need a couple bandages,
I be wit savages and im above average, Im a crazy ass star like a fuckin asterick, (ok. THAT was funny)
You niggas cant see me, im on my casper shit, (it gets better)
Runnin so much game, i fuck around and lap a bitch,
If love like a grocery, i juss bag a bitch,
And you kno im gonna score like Deion after picks,
Im rollin on a pill, she get that mornin after dick,
And when my roll came down guess whut i did after it,
I popped and took some patrone shots,
I pop popped and took some Grey goose shots,
I pop popped...yea.. Young Money bitch, and if you niggas wan' do it ,
we chop chop, Leave ya back on tha block, We pop cops, ( I told you it gets better)
And there aint no rights on my block,
I got shop, I got that dro, i got them pills,
i got that yay, Give it to them hoes and watch them bitches freak away...

Ok. I'm sorry to have exposed you to all of that, but this was actually one of the more creative set of rap lyrics I came across. THIS is you answer as to why there are no respectful teens around. Their parents think just because a rapper is popular he is okay. Just because Jay Leno had him and promoted his album that his lyrics are socially acceptable, and they aren't. This idiot just made killing cops and judges, popping pills and vodka, rolling, gang activity, muder, and STDs, all sound completely awesome. And his album is number 1. Think about it.
During Black History month my sister told me that each day the class would pause as the principal read a short biography on a notable Black Figure. Guess who was included in that list? TUPAC Shakur. Think about that.
And while you're at it, PLEASE google an image of Lil Wayne.
Everyone is so worried about kids smoking pot. They aren't smoking pot. They're drinking the Robitussin and Huffing your Dust-off! They're stealing your batteries and bleach and cooking meth. They're putting ropes around their necks and cutting off their oxygen for a buzz.
I don't know about you, but I hope I bust my kids with POT.

The Crazy House

Well. My friend called me Sunday and asked if she could come over here. She was all teary and I guess I was supposed to grab the baby bottle and ask what was wrong, but I just can't cope with her disastrous life. There isn't enough compassion in my entire body to handle her. Or should I say, to care. She's one of those people who IS her own disaster. She's 29. She fell at work 2 or 3 yrs ago and has stayed on Workman's Comp since then. She has an attorney at the ready for when they remove her workman's comp. Sure, she fell because these things happen, but isn't it the Mississippi to find someone to sue? That's why we don't have any good doctors here as it is. Everyone sues everyone. Well guess what? Sometimes, shit just happens. And it isn't anyone's fault. Or worse yet, maybe it's YOUR fault. Oh, the horror of taking responsibility for your own actions and their consequences.
Anyway. her son went to live with her parents because she was "so" bad off she couldn't handle the day to day things that come with a school aged child. So her husband kind of got upset and eventually divorced her. So now she's also living with her parents. As soon as she moved in with them she got rid of the cane, started wearing shoes, and driving again. But she didn't become a better house cleaner and her mom didn't like that. They pay 140 a week for summer daycare, but his mom is sitting at the house on her ass. I guess that wore on them a little. So she calls me going off because they're "ruining" her life, and I'm sorry, but I just don't agree. I think it's the other way around. So anyway, back to Sunday. Her mom told her she was a crappy parent and that her son now called HER mom. So she was upset and wanted to come cool off. Cooling off for her usually results in her loafing around my house for 1 to 4 days. So I said no. I said,"Why don't you start doing all of the things for your son that your mother has taken on? If you kept him during the day, and took him to karate and dr appointments, instead of being at your friend's houses, he would quit calling her mom probably and she would have respect for you." She kind of did the "Maybe you're right" (ya THINK?!). So then she texted my sister in law later and said she was checking herself into Lakeside. Oy. So I called her mother and she said she had indeed checked herself in. Wow. Then she called me during phone hours yesterday. "They said I'm an alcoholic, a substance abuser, and manic depressed, so that's what's wrong." Oh, isnt it great when a place offers labels for all the problems you've thrown upon yourself? Depressed? SURE! As a result of her decisions, and POSSIBLY regardless of them. Substance abuser? Huh?
"Why do they call you that?" "Because of all the stuff I've tried in the past". Wha? If the things we tried when we were kids makes us substance abusers, count me in! I mean, she gets pain pills for her "injury" and I've seriously never seen her ABUSE them. Heck, the last bottle she had, she SOLD. If she was abusing them, wouldn't she want to keep them for herself? I don't know. Then, an alcoholic? I dunno. She certainly drinks to get DRUNK, I can vouch for that, but I don't think it's very frequent. And she doesn't drink alone. BUT her dad is an al-key so I would say it may be best to make sure hers doesnt get out of control.
I just can't believe they diagnosed her with allllll of that within a day. And it was obnoxious that she called to tell me when visiting hours are. I mean, you just don't know her. She wants all attention on her it sometimes seems, and typically, the sympathetic kind is what she's looking for. And of course I'll visit her. What else am I supposed to do? Visitation is 6to7 tonight and Thursday, 1-2 on Sunday. I'm only going once, probably tonight. But I don't know, my grandma's house caught on fire so I may have to go over there. It was just most of the kitchen but I guess the firemen busted holes in the walls and ceilings cause it was electrical so they're living at my cousin's now and probably need help moving their things.

My daughter's newest fixation.

You may get a hint from the new profile picture. My daughter's first attempt at drawing a naked person. The boobs are actually pretty good for a first timer, but I'm not sure what's going on with the genitals. She's been sent to her room 3 times today. Once for saying weiner, once for drawing boobs on Spongebob, and once for this picture. In a way I'm disturbed, but satisfied she didn't start as young as I did. I drew my first peeter in 4 year kindergarten.

My girl draws 24/7, as much as anyone can stand. I used to keep all of her pictures but when she started stapling them together into "books" I had to become more picky. But THIS one, it's a keeper. It's going in her baby book, for sure.

I can't find myself

FINALLY. I took the time to figure out how to log into my very own blog! I can't believe it.
Whew.
Well, I've been quiet long enough. Here's my update.
I told my friend the dreaded "your husband tried to screw me" story, and this resulted in her begging for open face to face dialogue. I'm pretty sure this resulted from him ensuring her that this was all a misunderstanding.
Well.
I went off on him (I called him Jim Baker) and told her it was a BAD idea but I would do it. So Sunday afternoon, they came by. It was all very horrible. Every reason you could assume as to why I didn't tell her in the first place; all those fears came to light. It was horrible, I couldn't even look her in the eye, as I relayed to her everything she never needed to know, about her husband wishing he had a bag to put over her head during sex, wanting a standing day each week to come over for a booty call, all of that I had to tell her- inorder to defend my stance that it was NOT a misunderstanding.
I felt like I could HEAR the breath knocked out of her, and it was crushing. Whoever gets kicks form this type of thing, I'll never understand, because it was the worse kind of thing I've ever had to re-tell.
There was no feeling of justification, no feeling of joy, it was all just tragic.
I don't know what she'll do next. He finally conveyed that while he didn't remember these things, he knew me and my husband weren't lying, and would begin fervent prayer that God would reveal these things to him.
What a load of bullshit.
His wife knew it also. I can't imagine what the car ride home was like, but I'm glad I wasn't there, that's all I know, cause she was one pissed off lady (and didn't look a THING like Tammy Faye). She hugged my neck before leaving, but I don't think I'll ever see her again. And that's okay, because I DO feel better, and I know my husband can't hold that on me anymore (not allowing him to confront subject.). My marriage is more important than her friendship.

I feel like I'm surrounded by idiots sometimes, and I know there must be SOMETHING I do to attract such assholes. I mean, my sister in law slept with one of my best friend's husbands. Like a thousand times. Then my OTHER sister in law slept with him. Whose told to keep quiet? ME!
And let me tell you, I can count on one HAND in 28 years how many times I've snitched someone out. There was the time I found cigarrettes in my sister's room when I was 11 and she was 13. THE ONLY time I told on her.
Then telling my friend about her husband.
Those are the ONLY two times I can recall snitching and I'll give myself credit and say I PROBABLY did it one or two other times that I can't remember.
So what does that say about me?
People know that when they tell me something it isn't going to get back to the person who will be affected by it.
It also says I'd much rather hear the dirt than not, I think that's fair.
But maybe that's why I KNOW so much stuff. Let's face it, every body is jacked up, they just don't all air their laundry. Maybe they air it to me because they trust me and can get it off their chest simultaneously. So maybe if I had a bigger mouth these peoplewould quit plaguing me~!

I don't know, I think my word is more important than that, but at the same time, I am reflecting as to how I come across these insane human beings....

But that's what I think, the only reason I view them as nut bags is because they tell all their koolaid to me. They tell all their koolaid because they trust me.
They trust me because they know they can.

Which is why I'm glad I have this blog.
You just don't know people, okay? NOBODY IS NORMAL. Don't judge anyone. Anyway I know this blog has gone EVERYWHERE, but my mind is racing. I can'
t tell you how much I've reflected on since I lost my login info. I'm so covert and undercover, not even I can find myself!

Worth Adding

You can't blog list anything but this site's blogs, but I HAD to add this one because I have followed it & it is GREAT:
http://www.travelpod.com/members/djchurch

The Hedonic Treadmill

Update number one: I went to doctor yesterday feeling like he was going to laugh at me (I HATE going over any sort of unidentifiable pain, because I don't have insurance and if google can't find it, then my doctor is totally taking my blood. Which costs more.)
Anyway I hadn't slept at ALL the night before- everytime I dozed off, my muscles would get a very very nails on the chalk board sensation. I wanted to rip them out.
So anyway I cried. Because I'm a wreck and I was so sore and GOSH I'm 28 people! My mom has broken at least 4 bones- even her back! She's 57 and running circles around me. Sure, I'm not in perfect health!
So anyway my doctor can't handle tears so it's all very awkward. Regardless I have LYME disease, so on a side not I'd like to take this moment to say, that is just ridiculous. First he saqid I had tick fever, then his dad came in, who treated me for tick fever the last time, and said the bullseye on my leg where I pulled a tick off pointed at lyme disease, so they're just treating me for both. They took my blood with a needle so hollow it was like looking down the barrel of a 12 gauge. So they're supposed to call me next week with all that crap- since he was taking it anyway I told him to check my thyroid and for diabetes and whatever else because I've been working REALLY hard- REALLY! and saw on my chart I'd gained 7 pounds since the last time I was there, about 8 months ago, which is just disgusting. AND he put me on a huge dose of steroids, which means oh yea I WILL gain a few more on these things.
He gave me antibiotics and Mobic and pain pills and it was all very expensive. Please understand it costs almost 500 a month just to add me to our insurance plan, so to me this all means my visit cost about half of that, so we all come out ahead. He did refer me to an orthopedic (or the ortho that handles the bones and all) place for my wrist, which has been KILLING me recently but has hurt like hell for about 6 years. He looked back on my chart and saw I fell around that time but refusedf an xray (I think I was pregnant, if not I probably didnt get one because they aren't free), so he suggested I may have had a hairline fracture then and thats why it still hurts. I bit the bullet and okayed the referral, but now that I'm doped up I'm thinking maybe it's unbearable right now because my entire body is killing me, this craps like the summer flu, so maybe I'll call and ask about cost before going, I mean really, I don't want to break the bank, which a pack of gum is capable of doing as expensive as everything is right now.

Anyway my rant right now is about the Hedonic Treadmill. Here are some pastes:
The tendency for a person's economic expectations and desires to rise at the same rate as his or her income, resulting in no net gain of satisfaction or happiness.

Looking at the data from all over the world, it is clear that, instead of getting happier as they become better off, people get stuck on a "hedonic treadmill": their expectations rise at the same pace as their incomes and the happiness they seek remains constantly just out of reach.—John Lanchester, "Pursuing happiness," The New Yorker, February 27, 2006

Studies show that happiness rises with incomes — up to the point at which basic needs are met, after which it stagnates as aspirations also rise with income. The recent Nobel Prize-winning economist and psychologist Daniel Kahneman calls this a "hedonic treadmill." Like the proverbial rats, we run faster and faster — and so do our aspirations — but the bottom line is the old cliche: Money can't buy happiness.—Andrew L. Yarrow, "Utopia lost," Los Angeles Times, February 25, 2006

"The trouble is, if nice things happen to you, your expectations go up." With no escape from the hedonic treadmill, reducing expectations becomes the key to happiness.—T. Lott, "Happiness: Three academics look for life's biggest secret," Sunday Herald, April 15, 1990

I've noticed recently- well actually this has always been a peeve of mine- that my husband sometimes resembles a hamster in a wheel. He doesn't work harder than everyone else at his job for the money- he doesn't even claim his overtime (I call this ass kissing), he does it for the recogintion that he'll go above and beyond, all in the hope of going higher up. His frequent quote when we have this "debate": "I'm doing this so we don't have to worry about anything one day!"

Since I'm here with the children, I just don't agree. I have a completely different view of this, because I see what it does to HIM, and to the family unit. He's worn out, you can't give 110% at work and then do it at home!
So I was thinking yesterday, after reading an especially informative article in Cosmo while I took my 1200th dump of the day thanks to these antibiotics, about our earlier years.
He made 9 an hour when we bought this house. ALL our bills were paid, we had nothing left over. I worked too but all my income (which was very very little, I only worked part time) went back for us to have a 3 day trip away every year to unwind.
We were incredibly happy.We had no debt. He came home every night and had wrestling matches with his child (and later, children).

Fast Forward. Our income has doubled, and so have our bills. He works harder, we get ahead, and someone else holds their hand out. The ceiling collapses. The wife gets sick. The car needs a fuel pump, you know, L.I.F.E.
Over time work has become priority somehow. Not because he's a jerk, but because it's like life doesn't give you any other option. Have more? Want more! Want more? Need more! Need more? Tough shit!
So right now, he gets up around 6 or 7. He gets to work by 8. He leaves work at 5pm. He drives to school. He is at school 5:30 pm to 11p.m. Come home, bathe, eat, sleep. Do it all again. He came home last night with homework stacked up a foot high- and I am NOT playing, I have got to take a picture.
"WHEN do they expect you to do that?"
"It's amazing! They just expect me to do it. Everybody else in there does it and I don't understand how."
"No, they don't. If they do they don't work full time."
"Yes, they do!"
"NO! WHEN?! Do they sleep? Are you the only one in their who must sleep? Do they ever see their children? When do they get LAID?!!!!"
"Well, they do it, and I don't know if they get laid or not."
There is no way that these kinds of schedules work for any human for any long length of time. He had to be in class at 9 this morning at I woke up at 10:30 and he was asleep beside me. I got him up and he went into panic.
"This is badbadbadbad" EASY for me to say, but I'm like: TELL THE DUDE YOURE EXHAUSTED AND YOUR BODY DEMANDED A LITTLE SLEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
I figure once these classes are over, he'll get this "everything will be easier" promotion. And it won't be enough, so he'll go back to his regular college classes. His boss will go back to making him feel like a turd if he doesn't work overtime when he ISNT in class. Eventually we'll get to the goal: moving, since we need another bedroom. Then what next? What will he have to work toward next?

Anyway I think the theory of the Hedonic Treadmill is worth checking out, because it's true. We all work towards a goal when we DO know it won't make us happy, we'll just find another goal. Meanwhile, the things that are proven to make us happy fly by. Our family, times together, wrestling matches. The little things that you set aside for the big things that don't matter. It sucks when the latest reason to work like a dog causes you to be so focused on it that you miss what really matters. How many years can be cut off a life from being a workaholic?

Anyway, I in no way mean to pick on my husband- he loves us more than anything, it's just his way, but he hasn't realized yet what I'm trying to say. I'm not upset with him or anything, I just feel sorry for him. We would all be much happier if he was still making 9 bucks an hour and we had him here at 5:30 for dinner. We all support him and my kids NEVER complain or guilt trip him, I just wanted to vent about it. In this world, if you're working- whether you have a family or not- it's almost impossible not to get sucked into this way of thinking. I've never ever wanted to be rich, and this is why. I don't know one above income family who has their father home at the same time every night. I'd rather have only our basic needs and my husband here. So I'm going to try to pull myself out of this way of thinking by paying attention to what I do. In other words, I'm going to see how long I can go without eating out or having an expensive coffee. I have to believe that if we made it so well before and were so happy, maybe we don't need these raises and promotions to move, maybe we just need to pay attention to where our money is going and we could still move into a modest house with the 3rd bedroom and be just fine. So I'm going to try to change some things, because honestly, when I'm here with just the kids, we DO go eat out and rent movies and so on. So back to the library movies, back to dinners at home, bored or not, I'll jyst have to teach them how to play Yahtzee.
To end this on a positive note: I am very lucky my husband isn't lazy, because that would be way more of a bummer.