joeyfullystated

One-Liner Wednesday — They Really DO Listen!

Posted on March 4, 2015 by joey

Moo’s dresser drawers were overflowing due to lack of organization, so as she rummaged for the socks she wanted, she screamed out, “THIS IS WHY I CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS!”

all better now

One-Liner Wednesdays are brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Moo, One-Liner Wednesday | 17 Comments

I Wonder

Posted on March 3, 2015 by joey

WhY DiD TypiNg LiKe ThiS BeCoMe a THinG? Was theRe a PuRpoSe? DoeS It MeAn SOMeTHinG? Am i DoiNG iT RiGHT?

Why do people wear woolen caps in the summer?

Why do we congratulate people when they get married and then again when they get divorced? “Good job finding that spouse!” “Good job getting rid of that same spouse!” Odd, non? Maybe congratulations is why some people think marriage is an accomplishment?

Do the people who think the president controls the gas prices still think that when prices are low?

Why is it hard for people to understand gender identity? Plenty of people color their hair. Maybe she looks like a brunette, but she feels like a blonde, so she sees the colorist and we’re none the wiser. Why does anyone care?

Do blonde jokes still count when you’re a bottle-blonde?

Why don’t more people like my Facebook page?

What the fuck are people doing in those enormous glass showers?

Why does it take some people ten minutes or more to try on a pair of pants?

If people are already proponents of creationism, why is it hard to believe their deity created evolution? Have you seen how humans breed canines, or how humans create hybrid fruits and flowers? Is their deity not capable of that? I wouldn’t want a deity who didn’t understand science.

If people don’t believe in a deity because there’s no absolute proof, why is it so easy for those same people to believe in aliens, despite the lack of absolute proof?

Why is it that we all have that one thin friend who out-eats us and never gains a pound, and we all have that one thick friend who out-exercises us and never loses a pound?

Why don’t men wear painful things to exhibit their desirability? It must be such a burden to walk around with loose breasts and in comfortable shoes, and no, I’m not totally jealous.

Why is it so hard to understand that other people’s addictions make them feel just as good and just as miserable as our own addictions?

If it’s so important that we all go to heaven, shouldn’t heaven sound good to everyone? Is there a less-luxe heaven for those who prefer a more casual eternity?

If there are animals in heaven, that’s gonna be a real bitch for all those people who pretended to have allergies, right?

If summer’s so fantastic, then why the hell is hell hot?

Is caste system reincarnation on a bell curve, a sliding scale, or a standard grading system?

What is the proper spiritual response when a stream of fire ants climb into your coffee?

Those people who are all like, “We keep the romance alive by keeping our bathroom time private,” — Who brings them toilet paper from the other bathroom when the kids let it run out? Who brings them a cold rag when they vomit? Who takes them to the bathroom when their nails are wet?

Why do I always hafta pee when I finish painting my nails?

How long before we can pay per view of anything without contracts? I want a system where I can watch what I want to watch without subscription. I’d be happy to pay a la carte.

How long before everything in our homes becomes wireless? I hate wires. I don’t want to hide them in a tube, I don’t want to tape them to the legs of furniture, I do not want them hidden in the drywall, I just don’t want to deal with wires, EVER.

How is that man on ESPN allowed to wear that dreadful shiny hair-hat, when obviously he’s on television?

Why do we call it football? Obviously soccer is football.

Why is there a long orange extension cord on the streetlight across from me?

Why does so much of the internet read like old Cosmo articles?

Why do people believe everything they read on the internet? Don’t they have Google? AHAHAHA!

For a long time, I thought barely liked anyone else’s children, but then I realized that a lot of the adults I don’t like are actually someone else’s children. Oh, okay, that’s not a wonder…

Posted in Random Musings | Tagged wtf | 38 Comments

Don’t Fuck with My Pillows

Posted on February 27, 2015 by joey

On Monday, I was a victim of a great tragedy.
I woke up with a crick in my neck and soon discovered I had been sleeping on The Mister’s pillows instead of my own.
It was all very Princess and the Pea.

You see, on Sunday, in an unnatural turn of events, I awoke before the early bird, and as a result, my husband made the bed.
He swears he didn’t switch the pillows.
I believe he believes he didn’t switch the pillows.
There is no other explanation as to why our pillows were inverted, but he knows it was not his fucking fault and he’s not going to fucking apologize for something that was not his fucking fault.
If he does apologize it’s only in the screaming sarcastic way that implies I am an uptight, know-it-all bitch who never does anything wrong.

You know how it goes, “If you want something done right, do it yourself.”
If you’re a neurotic control freak who needs a lot of structure and consistency in your life then you know how crucial this aphorism actually is. You know ~~how I do~~ the type. I’m not saying that my life is filled with rituals and procedures, because I’m not a madwoman, but I have some rituals and procedures because I have anxiety disorder and I believe I cannot trust the world to operate properly without my supervision and intervention.

no, YOU don’t make sense!

So, on Monday, because of the pain in my neck, I also acquired a headache and a lovely panic loop, because as you well know, all headaches are brain tumors and all brain tumors result in imminent death, especially if you don’t worry about them. In fact, if you have anxiety disorder, not obsessing about your brain tumor will actually make it grow.

My social media was all about the pillow tragedy, and the injustice of my husband not apologizing to me. Dramatically relating my pain on the interwebz was great! I had a lot of fun!
It distracted me from tearful woe about how my husband had stopped loving me overnight, as well as preventing me from focusing on the panic loop.

11:50am
pillows are very important to me.
isn’t there enough pain in the world without sleepin on the wrong fuckin pillow?
i may not pull through, y’all.
i’m havin some very princess & the pea moments.

11:58am
marcellus wallace prolly has to wear that band-aid on his neck because mrs mia wallace switched the pillows on the bed.

1:13pm
i bet this new patch of eczema on my arm is from sleeping on the wrong pillow…

1:36pm
True asks, “How’s your pain? You feeling any better? I make you tea?”

1:47pm
i’m off to take a long, hot shower, to see if i can get over this lack of apology, i mean, pain in my neck, i mean, neck ache.

3:14pm
i have a headache, which i’m sure is because of poor pillowing. i may need to lie down. i definitely can’t sweep floors or roast a tenderloin in this condition.

3:20pm Photo of the day: 23. Fix — just make sure the pillows are placed properly before you lie down ‪#‎fmsphotoaday‬ ‪#‎littlemomentsapp‬

Anxiety hangover is a real thing. Muscles ache, eyes twitch and blur — renders me dizzy, gives me a headache, makes me feel like I’m not really in my body…body all exhausted, senses all heightened…Which is why someone looking at me while I sleep can startle me.

4:45pm
i was resting properly on MY pillows when my husband came in and scared the bejesus outta me with his eyes, so i’m up now, dishes done, dinner’s on…

I eventually recovered, after The Mister gave me a good rub and I got a full night’s sleep on the right pillows. But it was rough goin there for awhile, because I didn’t really wanna start another blog about my life as a single mommy with a brain tumor and all that.

Feel free to vent to me about your neuroses, your spouse’s inability to apologize, your panic loops, how important your pillows are, or how much you love Pulp Fiction.
Please avoid stating the obvious, like how this isn’t a Nice Lady Blog. And don’t fuck with my pillows.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged anxiety, anxiety disorder, marriage, panic attack, The Mister | 45 Comments

One-Liner Wednesday — Should I Name Him?

Posted on February 25, 2015 by joey

“There’s a strange little man living in my mascara tube.”

One-Liner Wednesdays are brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged One-Liner Wednesday | 7 Comments

It Should be Perfectly Obvious

Posted on February 24, 2015 by joey

Some time ago, I saw a comedian talking about how going outside to play is utterly frightening once you reach adulthood.
Something along the lines of ‘Imagine how scary it would be to wake up in the morning and leave your house on foot, without keys, money, identification, or a cell phone.’
I rarely do that. And when I do, I call it gardening.

But we did that all the time as kids, didn’t we?
From about age nine to twelve, I lived in a small town, and I mean to tell you, on good weather days, I woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast, and spent the entire day outside. I knew it was time to come home when one of two things happened, either my father whistled loud enough to wake the dead >Woo-oo-ooooot!< or the street lights came on.

it’s not just a meme, it’s an actual warning system

Sometimes we’d ride our bikes to the park, the pool, or the movies as a group, but there were plenty of times I was on my own — to the library, to the soda shop, to my father’s office, to the baby dress shop — just a little girl on a bicycle, or sometimes on foot. Many times, I left the house making one of those dotted lines all around Robin Hood’s barn just knocking on doors to see who could come out to play.

what? like my most preferred friends lived in order!

I cannot begin to explain how much fun we had in doing things that are terrifying.
We walked on train tracks for miles!
We knocked on doors and asked for odd jobs!
We sometimes did those odd jobs in exchange for sweets made by people we didn’t know
— and we ate those sweets in those strangers’ homes!
We drank from garden hoses, and not just our own!
We shared food and cans of soda with dirty fingers and mouths!
We made mud pies and got absolutely filthy!
We played in the streets and in, OMG! alleys!
We roamed abandoned buildings!
We jumped from trees, roofs, and bridges!
We picked fruits and ate them straight from the source!
We cut through cornfields and slid under barbed wire!

and we did not die

Adults knew of us, then. They sometimes knew our names, or who are parents were, or where we lived. In turn, we knew which adults would never give us odd jobs, wouldn’t let us cut through their yards, and would call the police if they saw us so much as sniff one of their honeysuckles.
No one stole your bike because everyone knew which bike belonged to whom.
When a horn honked, it was because the neighborhood Great Dane had stopped traffic by napping in the middle of a warm patch of asphalt. We all had to work together to push her out of the way.
No one called social services because we were unsupervised.

Truth: Warm childhood days in a small town were idyllic.

Old people like me are fond of talking about how we used to go outside to play. We remember this time when adventure was only limited by daylight, when ideas and resources were pooled, and yes, when the world seemed kinder, safer, and far more generous.

My kids have all played outside, but not with the same fearless wonder we recall. I only have one child like that. ~~She~~ I could really benefit from a tracking device on her body, but other than that, I’m delighted.

When I played in the snow over the weekend, between the hibiscus and the fountain grass, I was building a corridor with fallen branches, when my daughter asked me, “What are you doing?!?”
They stood over me, confused.
I thought it was perfectly obvious that I was building a lair for the snow queen and her beast…

I answered, “I’m playing!”

It’s something I just don’t do often enough — not enough of the kind of play that uses all of me — how ’bout you?

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged childhood, parenting, snow | 44 Comments

Weather is a Relative Issue

Posted on February 21, 2015 by joey

We had a couple of those crazy cold days, like -3 feels like -24 and stuff like that. We endured. It’s really important to make sure your scarf is tucked into your coat quite well, or your clavicle may burn all the way up the street to the bus stop. Also, there may be something wrong with the school bus on such a cold day, and twenty-five minutes later than usual, an unfamiliar bus with an unknown driver may stop nearby and ask you if you’d like to put your children on her bus. You would. You know you would, because even the dog cried about the cold.

I like cold. I like snow. Most of winter doesn’t even faze me. When it’s 20 and up? Awesome!

When it’s unreasonably cold, I just think about those seven years in southeast Georgia — my constant red face, sweating, frizzy hair, schlepping my chaffed thighs from one air-conditioned place to another, hissing at palm trees, stomping fire ants, batting away gnats, glaring at crepe myrtles, rolling my eyes at Salt Life bumper stickers — and I instantly feel better about my accelerating frostbite condition.

Then I get back to my house, strip down my layers, make a hot cuppa, rub lotion into my happy, pale, northern skin, look out my picture window and smile. So good to be home!

view from my picture window today

The Mister always says if it’s going to be cold, there should at least be snow, and I heartily agree. Sometimes it’s too cold to snow. No, really, that’s actually a thing.

Ah, but this weekend it was predicted that we’d have a good, heavy, wet snow and that it’d be warm enough to play out in it!

So this morning, I was ecstatic when I woke up to see snow stacked on our trees!
I made some coffee, and while it brewed, I got back into bed with my furry family. (They waste no time in taking over The Mister’s warm spot.)

When the coffee maker beeped, I shouted, “Sadie, let’s go! There’s snow!” I threw the leash around her neck and I piled on my layers so we could go a-tromping.
There’s about half a foot, and it’s the first big snowfall we’ve had all season. It’s the first snowfall to completely cover the grass, and I mean to tell you it’s beautiful!

And so warm! Heh!

When it’s 21 in southeast Georgia, the people spazz-out, when it’s 21 here, it’s just winter. It’s amazing how warm 21 feels when it’s been so much more frigid for a while!

This post is part of LindaGHill’s SOCS

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged dog, nature, snow, SOCS, The Mister | 34 Comments

One-Liner Wednesday — If It Looks Like a Parrot…

Posted on February 18, 2015 by joey

As we strolled through a zoo in Naples, Florida, some parrots said, “Hello? Hello?” so preschool Sassy turned to ask my mother, “Is it a wrong number?”

One-Liner Wednesdays are brought to you by LindaGHill

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged One-Liner Wednesday, Sassy | 11 Comments

Why I Gotta Title Everything? I’m Tired!

Posted on February 16, 2015 by joey

“Beep Beep Boop!” says WordPress.

“I’m so glad they’ve updated the entire site,” said no one ever.

I think the new notifications system here is about as helpful as digital toaster. Thanks for takin somethin simple and makin it take twice as long with confused results. Do I get all my notifications? Have I already replied, or do I only think I did? Trust me, I don’t need any help in the did-I-do-it-or-say-it-,-or-did-I-merely-think-I-did-?-department.

Where are the pingbacks? Oh, it says I have them, but if I can’t see them on the post, who knows if anyone else can.
Also, my likers. Maybe 42 people liked it, but when prompted to see all my likers, I get sent to the page, where there are what? a dozen?

And stop askin me why I go to the old stats page, because I’ve voted, “It shows more information” at least a dozen times now.

So Beep Beep Boop to you, too, ya bastard!

wordpress, you don’t love me right

Anyway, I’m actually in a good mood, despite the unnecessary complications of blog life.

I had Rice Krispies with a sliced banana for breakfast, it’s snowing today, I found out I’m someone’s favorite blogger, and thank Prometheus, it’s warm in my house.

be quick, mama, i gotta pee!

I wouldn’t like to upset any of the New Englanders, so I’ll try to phrase this delicately: Mother Nature has somehow given you our fair share of the snow on top of your own. We’re sorry. We know you didn’t ask for our snow, and we know you would give it to us if you could, but we haven’t even been able to muster up a single snowman this season!

While the snow continues to fall, I’d like very much to ~~sleep under a book teepee~~ lie on my sofa and read…

Unfortunately, I’ve got things to do today. I gotta do a load of laundry. I’ve got to iron a pile of shirts, well, they’re not piled, they’re on hangers, but you know. I need to pay a stack of bills — I bet that’s your favorite, too. I’ll do some dishes. Then I’ve got to figure out what we’re havin for dinner. I’m feelin salad-y. Y’all feelin salad-y? Maybe with some crusty dinner rolls? So yeah, I gotta do stuff, and you won’t believe this, but I just did things yesterday!
I know!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged blog, happiness | 40 Comments

Compulsory Love Post

Posted on February 14, 2015 by joey

You can read about how I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day here, although I am a fan of love in all its forms, including between a girl and her reptiles.

Love is when you retrace your path through the entire store because your baby left her beloved lizard toy somewhere. “Zerd! Oh no! Zerd all gone!” she cried as I put the groceries into the van.
Love is what I saw when she clutched him to her chest and smiled through her tears. “ZERD!”

Love wore Zerd’s stripes off, love caused Zerd a tail-ectomy, love took his feet, and eventually love buried Zerd under the begonias.

All that Zerd love was transferred into Gator. She doesn’t carry Gator around in public, but he’s still sought-out when she’s sick.

Love is inexplicable.

Posted in Uncategorized | 18 Comments

Finding the Painting

Posted on February 10, 2015 by joey

As I wrote in my Happiness post the other day, joy came to me when I found the painting. Vague, huh?
Because it has a story. I’m sure it has a much longer, more interesting story before my section of its story came to be, but no one seems to know it, so here is my version:

In the late 90’s, I took Tori to my grandparents’ lake house, where I spent many a childhood summer. Since we had almost no furniture in our townhouse, my grandmother encouraged us to take some while we were there. The back of Tori’s SUV wasn’t empty enough to snag a sofa, but I mentioned to my grandmother that there was a painting I wanted.
I described the painting, “It’s a little white house on a dirt drive? There’s a bush in the foreground, looks like a man’s coming out of it? It used to hang over my bed? I would wake up to it every morning?” My grandmother was completely puzzled, but she said to try looking in the basement, and to take anything else we wanted while we were down there. Well, yeah, forty years of lake living and never pitching a thing made for quite a search! We didn’t find the painting.
I moped a bit.

When my grandmother passed, The Mister and I made another search for that painting, and turned up empty-handed.
My parents asked me if there was anything else I wanted. I did not want anything else. I wanted that painting.

There was an estate sale the following summer, and my parents set aside a pile of things they thought I might like. Not one of them was the painting, and like I said, I didn’t want anything else.
In the pile of stuff they thought I might like was a large photograph of toddler me, in my overalls and sprouts of ponytails. (It has a story too, but I’m not telling you that one today.)

Why my mother thought I wanted this, I could not fathom. She didn’t even lie to me and say that everyone in the family fought over my incredible cuteness or anything. If she didn’t want it and no one even tried to beat her down and take it, why would I want it?
I did, however, think MIL would like it for her baby wall, and my mother said that was fine.
My MIL wasn’t my MIL then, but I was like her third kid, and it seemed only fair that my cuteness should hang on the baby wall, too.

Years later, MIL took this photo of Sassy and Moo in front of pictures of The Mister and Me, so we could all see how much Sassy looks like her father and how much Moo looks like her mother (in case we were all blind):

newsflash: our children look like us

Then, we recreated this photo with toddler Moo:

totally my kid

Isn’t that nice?
It’s no wonder Moo thinks all my childhood photos are of her. Of course, she also thinks that The Golden Girls are people she met at Grandma’s house…

Anyway, my mother used to paint over photos, giving them greater dimension and a bit of a sheen. I dunno, I think it was a 70’s thing, or somethin. I dunno, my mother is ridiculously talented. MIL needed the little me portrait framed in glass to match the other photos on the baby wall, so …

Guess what was behind that unnecessarily large portrait of me?

Behold, THE PAINTING:

It was destined to be mine.

I know, I know, you’re all like, “What’s so special about the painting?” I have no idea. I just love it. Always have. I don’t think it’s valuable to anyone except me. When people ask what I would take from my burning house? This painting.

If the fire was clearly unstoppable, I’d prolly ask the firefighters to throw my dining table out the picture window, too, but I’d for damn sure save this painting.

Have you ever had to hunt down your heirlooms? Do your parents have grossly large portraits of baby you? Do you want to tell me about your prized possessions?