Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Spunky & Happy

So last Sunday (not just this past Sunday, but the Sunday prior), I got a text about mid-afternoon from Happy's daughter, Spunky.  "Momma said that the worst thing that could happen to you if you fell off a jet ski was that you'd get a butt douche, but I think that's an enema." 

Right then and there, I knew Happy & Spunky were up to no good on a Sunday afternoon and having WAY more fun than I was.  But of course, just about anything is more fun than lying on the couch listening to the blonde proclaim her perpetual boredom and not being able to think of a single damned thing to do on a Sunday afternoon.  One thing led to another and Spunky invited me to join her and Happy at a bar at a nearby lake.  Knowing full well I would partake in adult beverages, I coherced the Brunette to go with me so she could drive me home and being the sweet little gal that she is, she agreed! 

When I arrived on the deck at the bar, I was greeted with squealing and glee that overwhelmed me and then the next thing I knew, Happy picked me up, demanded that I wrap my legs around her and she hugged me and kissed me and carried me around showing me off to all her new best friends at the bar.  It was pretty obvious I had some catching up to do to get to that level of alcohol induced bliss.  And being the obedient type that I am, I immediately conformed and starting slamming back the beers with them. 

And we laughed.  And laughed.  And laughed.  And kissed and kissed and kissed.  I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard and kissed so much.  It was one of those afternoons that you never wanted to see end, because the lake breeze and view were gorgeous and serene and the laughter was loud and authentic.  And the profanity poured out of our mouths like water from a tap.  I think we even ran off a family of 8 that had made the poor judgment call to sit out on the deck to enjoy their late afternoon meal. 

We loved the waitress so much - a darling little 18 year old.  With seven foot long legs, wearing tiny jean panties for shorts coupled with knee high black boots.  See, when you're our age, these types of hotties don't piss you off - you're just impressed with their gorgeous youth and their amazing legs and I think we told her 100 times that if we had legs like that, we'd wear that same outfit.  Hell, we probably tried to get her to give us those boots so we could mimic her look for the day.  We named her "boots" and beckoned her to our table time and again to fetch us more beers... "BOOTS!!!  BEERS!!!"  I left her a fat tip at the end of the day because she'd been such a good sport about the whole thing.  No doubt went back to her dorm and told her friends about the crazy drunk old gals that hassled her all afternoon and prayed that she didn't grow up to be like us. 

And then we ran out of music.  So I loaded up the juke box with a 10 spot and proceeded to pick out all my favorite songs.  Only I played all my favorite favorites at the beginning and therefore didn't really get to hear them  - being in charge of the juke box sucks and also it's boring. Standing there alone.  Perusing millions of songs - trying to spend your money "just right".  I don't think I'll be in charge of the juke box anymore.  I don't like it.  I made Spunky take over at one point because it got so mundane.  Plus, I could see Happy out there on the deck dancing and I wanted to dance with her. 

And then the Brunette said she needed to go home - something about school and homework and blah blah blah. So responsible.  And since she's an awesome driver when I've been drinking, we made it home safely. 

I never want to forget that day.  Because it was an epic moment of spontaneous fun!  And I love Happy and I love Spunky! 

And I think I might have agreed to host Christmas.  Blame it on the al al al al alcohol. 

Monday, August 29, 2011

Monday Monday

Thank God it's Monday.  Seriously.  The weekends just absolutely stress me out to the max.  Everyone running here and there and wanting to be entertained and spending money and Lord Baby Jesus just please - sit down and STFU.  It just wears me out. So much so that at 7 p.m. last night I took a Xanax and didn't wake up until 6:15 this morning.  Thank you for small miracles in the form of Xanax. 

I could tell, immediately, however, the day would NOT run without glitches as soon as I attempted to order 12 books on Amazon.com and have them sent to 11 different addresses.  What a piece of shit their "ship to multiple address" feature is on their website.  TOTAL piece of SHIT.  It took me no less than 30 minutes to get the damned order right and directed out to the correct addresses.  You'd think an online retailer like them might have their shit mastered, but evidently NO. 

Then my washer would not come on.  It had power, but no display - it was just dead.  The GOM fixed it by unplugging it and plugging it back in.  WHEW.  Glad that's all it was. 

This is day two on my hiatus from alcohol.  So far it's not looking good for a three day run.  I'll be honest with you.  We shall see how the remainder of the day goes and if I make it through.  I really wish the GOM would get picked up for a job outside of the house.  Because he has a knack for gettin' on my last nerve during the day.  He doesn't mean to.  And he has good intentions.  But it does tend to wear on a person when they are asked a million questions all day long. "What's for dinner tonight, anyway?"  "Are you hungry for lunch?"  "What do we have for lunch?"  and so on and so forth.  Don't you have school or something you could go to so I could just sit here in peace and work?  Love that man, but really cannot help but think he's driving me to drink most days. 

I have a couple of meetings at various school functions this week, so I hope to have some funny stories to share - I always find interacting with other parents to be humorous.  I don't know why. I just do.  Until then - I need to go get an attitude adjustment - in the form of say...... A WALK!!!

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Good Mom vs Bad Mom - A case of continual confusion........

Yesterday the blonde was entertained by a visit from her cousin until about noon.  And as predicted, 5 minutes after the cousin's departure, "I'M BOOOOORRRRREEEDDDDDD"

And then I heard that about eleventy nine hundred times until I finally could take no more and locked myself in my room for 2 hours.  And once I decided it was safe to come out and also that it was time I started getting dinner together, and cautiously approached the kitchen, "I'M BOOOOOOOORRRRRREEEEEDDDD"

Just shoot me.  So as I cooked dinner, I could see her in the TV room.  Shittiest look of disgust and irritation and OMG - my heart started bleeding right then and there - SADNESS.  And like a sucker punch it hit me - "What a miserable life this child must have.  She actually looks forward to school because she's not planted in front of the TV alone.  Or stuck watching us drink and smoke and dance in the garage.  She's stuck at a perpetual party that she cannot enjoy. I.AM.THE.WORST.MOTHER.EVER"

So I asked her to play Pass the Pigs with me.  And she obliged!!!  We had such a great time playing, that we decided to play Scrabble.  And we asked the Prodigal Son to play with us.  And he DID!  And when the dinger on the oven went off, instead of clearing the game and setting the table for dinner, we just grabbed plates of food and yelled for the grumpy old man, the brunette and Taylor Swift to come get food.  And we squeezed around the table, playing Scrabble and eating dinner - AT THE SAME TIME.  SO.NOT.ME.  But SO.MUCH.FUN!!  And when we got done eating dinner, we decided to play Pictionary Man and make brownies!!!  ALL OF US - except the grumpy old man who has spent his weekend trying to figure out what's wrong with the Prodigal Son's car (besides the obvious shit that the windows are stuck in the down position and super charger is on the blink and the damned thing leaks power steering fluid). 

And then the Prodigal Son's girlfriend, Ginger, showed up and we split into different teams and played some more Pictionary Man.  The brunette and Taylor Swift sucked.  But PS & Ginger kicked our butts.  So brunette and TS decided they'd had enough and left to go to a campout.  And PS decided he wanted some beer, so I ran to the liquor store to get some and when I got back?...........

Pictionary Man was all put away.  The couch was in the driveway, the lawnchairs were out, the music was blaring in the garage and there they all were.............  Waiting - for the never ending garage party to begin.  And it was then that it hit me - they like it in the garage.  The blonde was dancing and Ginger and PS were playing Ninja and all was well with the world.  And then 3 friends dropped by to say hi and partake in the fellowship we offer so many people in our garage and home.  And all was well with the world.  And it hit me - like a sucker punch.... I AM NOT THE WORST MOTHER IN THE WORLD!!! 

Thursday, August 25, 2011

One might think...

....it's a full moon.  But it's not.  It's just a fucked up week.  And I don't even know why.  Just one disasterous thing after another.  And today is the kind of day one might enjoy sitting outside sipping a cool one - but nooooooo..... too many things to do tonight.  Dammit the bad luck of that timing. 

I'll try to make this breif - although I could draw it out into a VERY long saga - but I'll try to spare you.
But the day's gone something like this (and I'm leaving out anything work related - which would add a shit ton more drama to this day - but I'll bear that burden alone):

Get a call from the Prodigal Son:

PS:  Wanna hear something funny?

Me:  Um.  I guess.

PS:  Those fuckers got all drunked up and ate all my god damned chicken - 32 fucking pieces of chicken.  GONE.

{The conversation continues from this point about the chicken and I'm reminded of the fuckers living in my house that ate an entire large pizza after I'd gone to bed one night and I'm not finding the humor in the story - but instead I'm again, pissed off}

About 1/2 hour later, I get a text from the PS:  READ MY FB STATUS

So I do.  And it says, "Dude.  Where's my car?"

So I text back - are you using "car" in place of "chicken"?

NO.  The fuckers took my car and I don't know where it is and I don't know where they are.

Whatever.  I can't even deal with this at the moment because I'm dealing with work shit and I'm overwhelmed. 

About 2 hours later, the PS calls again:

PS:  They fucking used up 1/2 tank of gas and I was using that gas to come home tomorrow.

Me:  WHAT?  You're coming home TOMORROW?

PS:  Yes. 

Me:  There's nowhere for you to sleep.

PS:  I'll sleep on the fucking floor - whatever.  They used up all my gas though.  I had to get someone to drive me around town to look for my car and I finally found it at this one kid's house.  And so I walked in and there they were - passed out with beer cans on their chests and I was like "WHICH ONE OF YOU MOTHER FUCKERS TOOK MY GOD DAMNED CAR LAST NIGHT?"  And they were all like, "Dude - WTF?  Where are we?  How did we get here?"  And I was all, "LOOK OUTSIDE YOU FUCKING GENIUS - YOU DROVE MY GOD DAMNED CAR WITHOUT MY FUCKING PERMISSION"  And they were all just like sitting there staring at me like they were fucking stoned so I was all like, "I ASKED WHICH ONE OF YOU TOOK THE FUCKING CAR?"  And this one kid I don't know was all like, "Dude, it was me."  and I said, "REALLY?  YOU BETTER RETHINK THAT RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I DON'T THINK YOU WANT TO BE THE MOTHER FUCKER THAT STOLE MY CAR BECAUSE I'M GOING TO FUCKING BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF WHOEVER DID IT RIGHT NOW AND RIGHT HERE." and the kid was all like, "Well actually I don't think it was me" and I was all like, "GOOD DECISION" 

{I put spaces between words in the above paragraph so you could read it more easily, but rest assured, he did NOT pause once.  Or even breathe.  And finally he took a breath....}

Me:  Well, someone needs to fill your car back up I guess.  And buy you some chicken. 

PS:  I have to go.  Love you.

No sooner do I hang up the phone and the Brunette sends me a text from school:

Brunette:  Can I go to elmel with Joe?

Me:  Joe Blow?  NO.  I do not like that kid at all.

Brunette:  Why?

Brunette:  Nevermind.  I don't even want to go and was looking for an excuse to not go.  Thank you.

Me:  Glad I could be of assistance.

And it's only 1:30!  I can hardly wait to see what comes up next.............

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Shittiest Day EVER

okay - maybe NOT the SHITTIEST - but most certainly ANNOYINGEST.  Pain in the ass day from HELL.

Went to bed early, got up at a decent time - you know - 6:20 a.m. - it's not too early, it's not too late - just a nice rising time!  Gonna be a GOOD DAY!!!!!  Grab the ol' iPhone and head downstairs for coffee - somehow by the time I get to the kitchen (and this is not a big house people - we have ONE WING - it's the MESSY WING) - I HAVE A FUCKING CRICK IN MY NECK. 

Well, you know a crick in my neck instantly pisses me off - because there is NO WAY to get rid of the damned thing so I know I can look forward to a day full of unwanted pain and irritation and limited mobility by this fucking CRICK.  FUCK YOU CRICK!  I hate you. 

7:15 - head to the shower.  Ever tried bending your head backwards to rinse your hairs with a crick in your neck?  Yeh.  It hurts, donut?  But I managed to survive.  And got dressed.  And put on my mask and did up my hairs all nice.  And painted my toenails a lovely shade of Pepto Bismal as it turns out. And tried on 7 pair of shoes with my outfit.  And changed clothes.  And changed clothes.  And changed clothes AGAIN - this shit went on until 9:15 - I shit you not.  The entire bedroom is DESTROYED.  Fuck it.  I'll deal with it tomorrow.

And these fucking toenails - why did I paint them this color pink?  Seriously?  It messes with my OCD because it matches the sum total of nothingness and ERGO (by the way that reminds me of that insurance commercial - you know the one with the falcon - ERGO - you bought me a falcon.... LOVE) - they are making me SICK and I can only go naked because THAT is the only thing they match - SKIN.  I'm not even sure they match skin to be honest with you - I need to just go throw that stupid polish in the trash.  Clearly someone on crack purchased it because along the lines of bad decisions - that was one. 

Headed off to the office for a meeting - got about a mile away - realized I'd forgotten my cell phone when I went to text someone while driving (not really - but it sounds fitting for this fucked up day) - had to turn around.  Plod BACK to the house, grab the phone and FINALLY head to the office.

About 15 minutes before the meeting, I email the other person - "Are you not coming in for the meeting?"  5 minutes later I got a response:  "No.  The meeting is on a conference call."  Well fuckity doo dah day and all that other happy shit becuase GUESS THE FUCK WHAT?  I don't have a phone at the office because I brought it home.  I had the cell phone, but with this fucking crick in my neck I wasn't about to sit for two hours with the piece of shit not meant for talking on iPhone up to my ear.  So I hopped in the ol' car and headed BACK HOME.

Had the meeting.  That was interesting and all and I don't blog about that aspect of work so you can't hear it but my poor husband sure as hell did - because that's his job - listening to me prattle on about work.

Had to GO BACK TO THE OFFICE for another meeting.  But got to work with the most delightful girl EVER - LOVE THAT GIRL - and we kicked that project's ass so it was a fruitful effort. 

Drive home - car dealie majigger reads 108.  108.  It's hot as fuck and I'm sick of the heat.  I like summer and all but seriously  - E.N.O.U.G.H.  It's killing me.  As is this wretched miserable crick in my neck.

This day is NOTHING like Sunday which was the BEST DAY EVER.  And as soon as I'm done being pissed and hot and grumpy, I'll tell you all about it. 

Until then - beware.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Is this Normal Folks?

Actual text conversation between the husband and I last night:

Me:  TV upstairs is not working

Him:  check the remote batteries

Me:  I have the box and the tv on.  Brainiac.  The TV says "no signal"

Him:  Oh no work

Me:  Yeh.  El broko.  This pisses me off.  Fuck it.  I'm throwing it out the window.  And also moving my bed downstairs

Him:  The tv is on but no signal then its the box or wrong channel

Me:  How do I know what channel it's on?!

Me again (because I'm a electronical wizard):  Oh.  Well I'll be God damned.  I hit the 3 on the black remote and the fucker works like a charm now!  Thanks honey!!

Him:  Thats why you keep me around.  If I get too broken down you will be kickin me to the curb!

Me:  LMAO!  Out the window you go!

Him:  Or that.  But spend most time in garage so a kickin to the curb makes more sense

Me:  True.  Otherwise I'd have to drag you up the stairs and that just seems like an awful lot of work.

Him:  Thats what I thought (It's a shame he doesn't have a smart phone so it corrects his punctuation)

Me:  Maybe you could keep the trash bin on it's side so I could just shove u in there?!?

Him:  You are givin this way too much thought.

I mean really people - is this a normal conversation?  Please tell me it is! 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Happy Birthday to ME!!!

Today is my birthday!  I'm 45.  HOLY HELL!!!  How and when did that happen?!!!  It causes me to pause and reflect on my 35th birthday and a conversation I had with my baby brother that year. 
BB:  What do you want for your birthday sis?

Me:  I can't tell you specifically - but it's a song by Queen!!!

BB:  You want a fat bottom girl?

Me:  NO!!

BB:  A bicycle?

Me:  NO!!

BB:  I give up - what is it?


I was a divorced mother of two.  I'd lost my children to my ex-husband - well actually handed them over because I was totally fucked up in the head and couldn't get my shit together and give them the attention I knew they deserved.  I had a job I despised.  I was flat-assed broke, constantly running from bill collectors. And yearning to be loved and cherished. 

Fast forward 10 years:  I have those two children back (although one pain in the ass grew up and moved off to college) PLUS a beautiful 8 year old daughter I never dreamed I'd have.  A husband that loves me more than a man should love and cherish a woman.  A job I absolutely adore (although it's the same job - I have a new outlook).  My bills are paid and there is money left over each month.  And people actually look at me as a mentor - so I am evidently either no longer fucked up in the head or have become a master of disguise!!


So this year for my birthday - I want something else - also a song by Queen (because WHO DOESN'T FREAKIN' LOVE FREDDY??!!!!) - - - -


The Miracle Lyrics

Every drop of rain that falls in Sahara Desert says it all

It's a miracle

All God's creations great and small

The Golden Gate and the Taj Mahal

That's a miracle

Test tube babies being born

Mothers,fathers dead and gone

It's a miracle

We're having a miracle on earth

Mother nature does it all for us

The wonders of this world go on

The hanging Gardens of Babylon

Captain Cook and Cain and Abel

Jimi Hendrix to the Tower of Babel

It's a miracle it's a miracle it's a miracle

It's a miracle

The one thing we're all waiting for is peace on earth - an end

to war

It's a miracle we need - the miracle

The miracle we're all waiting for today

If every leaf on every tree could tell a story that would be a


If every child on every street had clothes to wear and food to


That's a miracle

If all God's people could be free to live in perfect harmony

It's a miracle

We're having a miracle on earth

Mother nature does it all for us

Open hearts and surgery

(wonders of this world go on)

Sunday mornings with a cup of tea

Super powers always fighting

But Mona Lisa just keeps on smiling

It's a miracle it's a miracle it's a miracle

(wonders of this world go on)

It's a miracle it's a miracle it's a miracle

It's a miracle

The one thing (the one thing) we're all waiting for (we're all

waiting for)

Is peace on earth (peace on earth) and an end to war (an end

to war)

It's a miracle we need - the miracle

The miracle peace on earth and end to war today

That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be


That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be


That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be


That time will come one day you'll see when we can all be



Monday, August 8, 2011

Tell Those Kids......

I am continually irritated and frustrated with the Grumpy Old Man's insistence that all communication and direcrtion to the children come through me.  Our conversations around here generally look like this:

{Picture me in the garage, drinking, smoking, texting and dancing all at the same time because that's generally how you will find me}

{Enter Stage Left - Grumpy Old Man}

GOM:  You need to tell those kids to stop opening that fucking basement window.

Me:  Why?

GOM:  Because the a/c is on and I'm seriously fucking fed up with it.  Why do they open it anyway?

Me:  Ummm - how the fuck should I know?  They're 19?  They're idiots?  They're smoking pot in the basement - hey - can I smoke pot in the basement too?

GOM:  Seriously!  You need to tell them.

Me:  You tell them - it's your deal - not mine.


GOM:  Why the hell does that kid park his car THERE?

Me:  I don't know - why does that kid park his car there?  Is this a riddle?

GOM:  No it's not a fucking riddle - god dammit - you need to tell him to stop parking his car there.

Me:  You can tell him. 

This shit goes on and on - day in and day fucking out.  Reporting TO ME the shit that needs to be told to these vagrant 19 year olds living in our home.  Or ASKING me stupid fucking questions that I would NEVER know the answer to about why they do the shit they do.  It's actually more exhausting than having the vagrants here.  And because I'm super good at problem solving.....

Get one of those intercom systems installed in the house.  The main control board would be in the garage and the GOM could stand out there while he drinks and smokes or when he's just passing by and simply press the button to the room(s) to which he wants to blare his bitching and BAM!  The task would be complete. 

I suggested this to him the other night when he once again told me to tell them blah blah blah - something about rocks in the soles of their shoes or something - they are scratching the new kitchen floor or some other shit he's noticed.  "Tell them to stop wearing their fucking shoes with boulders in the soles on the new floor!"  You fucking tell them - they walk through the garage to get in the house and you see them first - so YOU tell them.  I'm busy - watch me twirl to this song - watch!  I'm super fucking good at it!!! 

He pondered my suggestion for a bit and actually liked it - then he started acting out how he would stand and what his voice would sound like as he made his public addresses.  But then pretty soon, he pulled up a chair and just sat, with his finger on the pretend talk button and rambled and vented for about 15 minutes, at which point he looked at me and said, "I'm going to need to tape down the talk button - my finger is getting tired and the blood is running out of my arms and they're falling asleep"

I could tell right then that if I actually installed such a public address system in this house - I would be eternally regretful- so I guess we'll just return to ME being the receiver of all information that needs to be relayed and I'll continue to just drink myself deaf in the garage, dancing and singing, as if the situation doesn't really exist.  And who knows - maybe I'll solve some of these fucked up riddles he presents to me!

Friday, August 5, 2011

Bob Dylan Causes Bloody Noses

Remember that song that goes ...."Why does Joe Jackson have to be in all his videos?"  Yeh.  I can't remember who sings it - but it's old and I never understood the line in the song but always assumed Joe Jackson must be a scary fuck or something and that's why the singer asked the question.  I just Googled him and sure enough - he is one ugly fucker.  Anyway - this line came to mind the other day when I downloaded some Bob Dylan.  But my question is this:  Does Bob Dylan have to sing his songs? 

See, I always wanted to be cool and like Bob Dylan.  I even went to see him in concert once.  And walked out.  He sounded so fucked up that I couldn't understand a word he was singing and I figured he must be drunk out of his fucking mind that particular day - so I left.  But recently, I heard someone else sing Bob Dylan and I totally loved it - so I was thinking, "HEY!!!!  FINALLY!!!  I AM COOL!!!  I LIKE BOB DYLAN!"  So I ran to my iPod and purchased ONE song.  And thank GOD I listened to it BEFORE I purchased more - because IT FUCKING SUCKED.  I was pretty sure I sounded better than that the night I drank 612 shots and then sang karaoke at a local bar. 

As soon as the sound (I will NOT call it music) started coming out of the speakers - I was instantly sent reeling back to the most horrendous of ALL childhood memories:  Being forced to eat canned asparagus.

I sat there at the table, refusing to eat the stinking assed slimy shit.  And my dad force fed it to me and in the struggle, I got a bloody nose.  Therefore, canned asparagus causes bloody noses and I would never touch it again in my life.  Until I was in my 30's and tried FRESH asparagus and LOVED it!  If you love fresh asparagus you must also therefore love canned asparagus.  (I've always had an amazing ability for deducing).  So like an alzheimer's patient, I bought a can of the asparagus and cooked it up.  AND INSTANTLY GOT A GOD DAMNED BLOODY NOSE. 

So when I was thinking of how much I loved the Bob Dylan songs I heard the other day sang by someone who was not Bob Dylan and ran to download it - and then when I heard the real Bob Dylan screeching and slurring through the speakers, it reminded me of canned asparagus.  AND I GOT A GOD DAMNED BLOODY NOSE.  I do not like canned asparagus just because I like fresh asparagus - they're not the same thing.  I do not like Bob Dylan just because I like when someone else sings Bob Dylan songs - THEY'RE NOT THE SAME THING.

I like the idea of Bob Dylan - I like the lyrics - I like the beat.  But I cannot fucking stand the sound of his shitty voice - all fucked up and stoned and drunk and brain damaged or all of the above.  Therefore, that's where memory #2 came in - the song that says, "Why does Joe Jackson have to be in all his videos?"   - EXACTLY!!!  Why does Bob Dylan have to sing all his songs?  WHY?

Couldn't someone else who wasn't missing half his marbles do the singing?  And ol' Bob Dylan could just stay in the background?  I mean it's kind of like Dolly Parton.  She's an amazing song writer, right?  But her warbling, quivering voice is about enough to make you want to stab a knife in your ear to ensure the sound won't enter.  (Well, except for a couple of songs - but you KNOW Whitney Houston's version of "I will always love you" is FAR better than Dolly's version - well except until Whitney also decided to fry her fucking brains out with drugs - but you get my point anyway). 

So please - for the love of GOD - someone please tell Bob Dylan to Shut.The.Fuck.Up and let someone else sing his songs.  They would be SO MUCH better if he just didn't get involved in the singing.  He could stand up there - that's fine - just turn off his fucking microphone so I can't hear him.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Confronting the Elephant

I recently acknowledged the elephant in the room and you know what?  It wasn't that bad. 

Sweet Funny Blonde (SFB):  I know it's petty, but I have the elephant with me.

Me:  Yes.  I know.  I heard the elephant was driving you home - tell the elephant thank you for doing that.  (See normally you wouldn't be appreciative of an elephant driving, and you likely wouldn't think elephants could drive, what with their flat giant feet and shit - but this elephant drives pretty good and I knew my beloved family was in safe feet)

When I got to the house, I didn't see the elephant which is strange that you couldn't find an elephant in a house - but whatever - I wasn't really looking for the elephant and it was really not even relevant to the situation anyway.  But later, the elephant came out from the corner and stood 5' from me.  Fuck that.  Here's the deal you pachyderm, this shit between us ends today. 

So I took a deep breath, shotgunned a beer, took a swig of whiskey and marched right over to the elephant:

Me:  ELEPHANT!  How the hell are you?

Elephant:  Psycho Bleach Blonde!  It's good to see you! 
And the elephant extended a leg and we hugged an awkward, fucked up, don't get too close to me kind of hug.

Me:  Elephant - meet my husband - Grumpy Old Man (GOM) - this is the elephant we've been avoiding.

GOM:  Hey elephant - nice to meet you - I guess. 

And so it began - the transformation of the elephant into a human. 

See.  I've been mad at this elephant for a good god damned long time.  Not just mad.  Enraged.  Bitter.  Hateful.  Disgusted.  And I had played out in my mind that given the chance, I would punch this elephant square in the fucking trunk.  But the strangest and least expected of all things happened when I finally came face to face with the elephant. 

A wave of.... NOTHINGNESS came over me.  No rage.  No anger.  No bitterness.  Just complete non-emotion - the elephant was just another human in the room.  And I felt 200 pounds lighter.  The baggage and weight of being so fucking mad for so many years lifted from my shoulders.  And I pulled up a bar stool and sat and chatted with the no-longer-an-elephant like an old friend.  Which is what we really are.  Old friends.  In a new dynamic.  And it's okay. 

The grumpy old man actually hated the elephant more than me, despite the fact he'd never met the elephant.  But I'd done a damned good job of painting an illusion of this wicked elephant and therefore the GOM despised him and had threatened to kill him if he ever saw him.  But he didn't.  He also sat and chatted with the elephant - for hours.  And at the end of the night - they embraced. And that was weird.  And I wondered why in the hell would they embrace?  Are they lovers now? 

Or was that a gesture of peace - letting each other silently know that all was good with the world now and pachyderm and man would now live as one? 

Regardless.  I'm glad I confronted that elephant.  Go confront yours today - you'll be glad you did!