High School English Project

My son is Porter in the red shoes, talking & walking through the “forest”. He is playing the role (lol, if you can call it that) of Dante…

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Can a woman be a cherry popper? Up until yesterday I had never really thought about it. However, as the events of the day unfolded.. I had the strongest desire, for the first time in my life, to be a Cherry popper.

Let me back up. We had an unplanned party Friday night. My broken ankle son had a few friends over. About 15 minutes after they arrived, teenagers started crawling out of the woodwork, around 30 total. All in all it wasn’t too bad. We had one freak accident that resulted in a broken window and the police were called a couple of times by my neighbor who complains about everything. Both times the police officers just told us to keep the noise down and that was that. It was by no stretch of the imagination a wild party. It was actually very calm.

Then yesterday, I was outside with the kids when I got ambushed by my police calling neighbor, Cherry. No shit.. that’s her name. I have no idea if that’s what her momma named her, but I’m hoping so. She’s a rather large woman and I just can’t imagine anyone that looks like she does calling herself Cherry if that isn’t her name. Anyway, she’s not very nice and I think she has the police department on speed dial.

Not long after they moved in, she called me in the middle of the day to gripe about the kids being too loud, when they were really only being normal kid loud, there just happened to be a lot of them. I kept saying “Huh? What? I can’t hear you?” Trying to act like I couldn’t hear her over the loud kids, but she assumed I had a hearing problem.

This has ended up being kinda fun and has worked to my advantage on several occasions. Now she shouts when she talks to me, and regardless of what she’s saying I usually wave and yell, “Great thanks! How are you?” and walk off.. yeah I know.. I’m mean, but whatever.. she’s a bitch. We’ve had a couple of other issues, but for the most part we mutually try to avoid each other.

Anyway, a while back Cherry’s husband paid big bucks to have this really nice, already mature, Japanese tree hauled out to their house on a big flatbed truck and planted in their yard in her honor. It’s a Weeping Cherry, that she named “Cherry” which alternately makes me want to puke or laugh my ass off, I never can decide which. It used to be a lovely Weeping Cherry, much lovelier than Nagging Cherry…

  
Okay, that is her tree which obviously has problems because it’s Spring and it hasn’t bloomed yet, nor did it last year; but that’s not really her. It’s a close resemblance, but unlike the chick in the photo, Cherry is very much a prude and she doesn’t smile. Especially when it comes to that tree.

She started off saying that we had a situation, so I replied with my standard huh. She moves in closer and repeats herself but louder this time… “We have a situation! Last night one of your guests, broke a limb off my Weeping Cherry. I’m going to need to call a tree doctor or an expert of some sort to come look at it.”

So being hard of hearing, I asked her who Jerry was and what limb he broke.. was it his leg, arm.. and how it happened.

Exasperated but determined to be heard, she started shouting in my ear and pointing at the tree. My humor was starting to fade because they probably paid several hundred bucks for the tree, having it delivered and getting it planted. It was obvious where the conversation was going and I was beginning to get more than a little ticked off.

I told her, “I have no idea what’s wrong with your tree but I know for a fact nothing happened to it because of any of our guests last night. I personally watched them the whole time and they didn’t go anywhere near your yard.”

Which is the truth. Well it’s partly true. A few of them did go into her yard and piss on her roses after she called the police the second time, but they positively did not go anywhere near the opposite side of her house where the tree is located. Plus, by this time, we had made our way over to the tree and I looked all up under and around it. There were no broken limbs… so screw her. I KNOW this didn’t happen.

She yelled, “I’m telling you one of them popped a limb off Cherry!” So I yelled back, “What?? Someone popped your cherry? I’m confused I thought we were talking about your tree.” She made some kind of noise that sounded like wounded moose and mumbled under her breath something about me being “sooo vulgar”, which of course I could do nothing but stand there and grin because I couldn’t hear her you know and.. well she kinda had me on that one.

Anyway, I asked to see the limb or at least for her to point out where one had been broken off, and she claimed she couldn’t show me the limb because she had already disposed of it. She kept talking about the damn thing like it was a body part, saying it couldn’t be reattached, but the wound would need special bandages, blah, blah, blah. She never did show me the wound she was referring to, nor did I see any signs of one.

Fine, she had no proof to back up her accusations.. I figured I could do the same damn thing and started making accusations of my own, which I whole heartedly believe to be true, “All I see wrong is the part that has been dying for some time now. Is that what you are referring to? Are you trying to claim someone here messed up your tree so you can try to make me buy you a new one or pay for your tree expert.. since it OBVIOUSLY needs help?”

She got pissed and sputtered out her non-appreciation of me implying that she was a liar. I had enough at this point and told her. “I’m not implying a damn thing. I’m flat out calling you a liar because I know they didn’t touch your tree. However, if anything happens to your roses…….” and I walked off.

The last I saw, she was scurrying off to inspect her roses, with that mouth going a mile a minute.. “My roses? What did they do to my roses? I have you know those roses are…..” I have no idea what followed.

I went inside before my desire to be a Cherry popper became a reality.

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My 6 year old daughter, who has waist length hair, has to have her dance pictures made today.

We get to put on make-up, pull her waist length hair up in a cute little bun on top of her head with feathered accessories and don various outfits of tulle, sequins, spandex, little string things, pink tights, nude tights, black tap shoes and pink ballet shoes, that after all was said and done cost about $300. Not a bad price for a combined total of wearing time, that includes the recital, of about 30 minutes. Woohoo! What a bargain! Only $10 per minute!

Did I mention that she has waist length hair, actually longer. Here let me show you. This picture was taken last Sunday at our church’s Easter Egg Hunt…

See, long hair. Long, long hair. Up until yesterday it is all one length of long, long hair… until they had art class that is. That’s when the little shit who sits next to her decided to cut a chunk of it off with her damn scissors. Now she has about a 1 and 1/2 inch section, right along the hairline on her forehead that stands straight up because it’s maybe a 1/2 inch long.. if that. That’s going to look real cute with the rest of it pulled up in a bun.

I’m pissed off. The kid could have at least waited until AFTER she had her $65 worth of pictures made. Nope, doesn’t matter.. I’d still be pissed off. Scissors in school should be banned!

Now I’m off to the salon to buy what will probably end up being $50 worth of products, in the hopes that at least one of them will glue that crap down long enough to say cheese.

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Ya’ll we had the most exciting night around here! I just know that I am going to go to bed tonight with a smile on my face. Why?

WE’RE ALIVE!!!

The kids and I had to make an emergency run to the nearest Walmart which is about 20 minutes away. Apparently our local Piggly Wiggly doesn’t think it is necessary to carry calculators along with bread and milk.. dumb asses. I mean seriously, if you owned the only store, besides Chevron Quick Mart, that was open past 9pm, in a relatively small community, that has a grammar, middle and a high school.. which have a combined total of about 1,700 kids.. would you not have one hell of a school supply aisle? Well okay, calculators may be asking a bit too much.. but unless you need a 24 pack of Crayola Crayons or a poster board, you are just shit out of luck.

Okay, that’s beside the point, we had to go to Walmart because my 14 year old son remembered at 8pm that he HAS to have a plain, ordinary calculator with no special features by 8am in the morning. He’s taking the SATs and they get to use a calculator on the math portion, provided it has no special features and provided that everyone has one. He can’t use the scientific calculator that was required at the beginning of the semester.. the one that we were told had to be a specific name brand and model number.. the one that cost me $40+ bucks. No, it had to be the plain kind that I didn’t even know they made anymore.. the kind we do not own. So the three kids and I head off to Walmart.

I think my first mistake was letting my “scaring me to death while he is learning to drive” 15 year old drive us there. At night. For the first time at night. On the interstate. My second mistake was not making sure that my 14 year old son had no weapons on him. My third mistake was not asking my 6 year old daughter if she needed to use the bathroom BEFORE we left and my fourth mistake was a failure to ask everyone.. “Did anyone else forget they need something for tomorrow?” How silly and remiss of me.

At approximately 8:15 we are cruising down the interstate, everything is going good when my daughter informs us she has got to use the bathroom RIGHT NOW. We get off the interstate, go to McDonald’s where everyone of course got thirsty and chocolate milkshakes were bought all around. We get back in the car, realize the purpose of our stop never took place.. go back in, pee and leave. At 8:55 we get to Walmart, grab the calculator and had just gotten in the checkout line, when my 15 year old remembers he HAS to have a book for tomorrow, Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None”. I have no idea what the book is about, but that title proved to be true in regards to Walmart’s stocking of the book as well.

At 9:15 we are back in the car, heading to the OTHER side of town with Books-a-Million as our destination. Somewhere around 9:30 or so a Nerf missle went flying past my head, followed by several of its ammo siblings. I slammed on the non-existent brakes on the passenger side and sharply turned my imaginary steering wheel to the right, while my son did the same thing on the driver’s side with the tools that count. So it was probably around 9:31 when the two passenger side tires worked their way into a slight ditch that was just beyond the shoulder of the road.

After I realized everyone was okay and that the vile taste in my mouth had come from my stomach, I opened the door, gagged.. saw we weren’t stuck and then did what came natural.. I turned around and tried to beat the hell out of my son with the Nerf gun I snatched out of his hands.. and let me just say, that is one limber kid. I don’t think I got one good blow in damn it.

Everyone calmed down. I decided to let my 14 year old live since we had just gotten him a new $3 calculator. I certainly didn’t want to waste all that time and effort we put into acquiring it. We ended up having to go to two different bookstores before we found the book we needed, throw in a near turn onto a one way street and a couple of stop sign running episodes and our journey was complete with no further mishaps. Thank goodness!

Now I’m worn out. I feel like I aged 10 years in the few hours we were gone. However, since my oldest will get his bonus points for having his book on time, his brother now has a calculator and will not be the reason his classmates don’t get to use theirs and most importantly, everyone is still alive, I would have to consider the venture an overall success. So heck yeah! I will definitely be going to sleep tonight with a smile on my face.

Woohoo! We drove down the highway to hell & survived it…

WE’RE ALIVE!!!

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I told my kids to go get into some trouble.. get arrested or something, because I needed something to blog. You have no idea how hard it is to follow up a post titled “Eating Pussy”. Anyway, apparently my kids can’t perform on demand and they’ve been good.. okay that’s stretching it.. they haven’t been real bad, but the weekend is coming up, so that probably won’t last. That means ya’ll get stuck reading about my fire related activities.

This was actually 4 separate posts but is now 1 because I sorta, kinda have a fire theme going here.. forced at times, but fire theme nonetheless. Just play along, humor me and pretend you don’t notice the forced parts.

Lust: Burning In Hell…

I was visiting my 97 year old grandmother in the hospital yesterday. It’s a catholic hospital and while I was there this rather young.. and VERY attractive priest came to visit her while making his rounds. OMG! I actually fantasized about a priest while he was standing right in front of me doing his priestly duties. I probably knocked myself out of the running for an eternity spent in heaven, because the likelihood of my panties spontaneously combusting at the time was very high.

I got my mind out of the gutter for about two seconds, actually got embarrassed, which takes a good bit of doing by the way, and figured my face was blood red (damn this fair skin!) since I could feel the heat slowly but surely working its way out of my nether regions and up to my neck and face. Then I decided that since I had already consigned myself to burning in the pits of hell, and being the obviously horny, needs to have sex in a really bad way person that I am right now, I let my mind re-strip him of his collar and everything else and jumped right back in the gutter. I’m such a bad person… I can’t believe I just told ya’ll about that.

Antibacterial or Accelerant…

Liquid dish washing detergent. Did you know that shit is flammable? Holy hell.. no need to buy gasoline if you have some of that stuff!

It was around 3:00am the other morning when I started smelling this funky smell. Went to investigate and saw that I had left one of those candles in a jar burning. Well the candle itself was burnt up, but there was still a bit of wax in there or something, because the whole damn inside of the jar was aflame.

This happened on the same night that a friend of mine who I’ll call Craig because that’s his name, left me with no running water in my kitchen sink. He is positively the WORST plumber in the world so it’s a good thing that isn’t his day job. Anyway, he was putting in a new faucet for me and couldn’t get the damn thing installed properly so I had no running water. This left me in a dilemma with the flaming jar since no amount of blowing was going to put out. I know this because I tried.

I grabbed it, burnt the hell out of my right hand, dropped it over in the sink, then remembered oh shit.. no water. So panicking a bit, I grabbed the liquid dish washing stuff that was sitting there and squirted a liberal amount inside the jar. DO.NOT.EVER.DO.THAT!

Good God! I had a damn bonfire going on in the sink. I freaked out, couldn’t remember what the hell you were supposed to put on fires. Was it salt? baking soda? flour? pepper? Hell I had no clue, so I grabbed the carton of milk out of the fridge thinking.. well it’s wet so that should work. It was also ice cold and the second it touched the burning jar it exploded. I had shards of glass and some liquidy black crap that I assumed was scorched milk all over the kitchen.. it sucked!

Midnight Backfire…

My daughter woke up screaming the other night because she thought one of her brothers had glued her eyes shut while she slept. I figured they probably hadn’t done that, but I wasn’t completely sure because they just can’t be trusted and they’re crazy. So I got to looking and realized she had a raging case of pink eye and all the nasty oozage crap that goes with it. Oozage isn’t a word by the way.. or so Firefox is indicating.

Anyway.. she woke everyone in the house up with her screaming. Checked out the boy’s eyes and sure enough they were looking pinkish too.. that meant no school the next day. Since everyone was wide awake at this point, we decided to get even with our neighbors for blowing their leaves into our yard even though we have repeatedly asked them not to, as well as a couple of other things they needed to be paid back for. Obviously, we’re a vengeful lot, so just keep reading and be glad you don’t live next door to us.

We got out the fireworks and shot off a few bottle rockets just to harass them because we are good neighbors like that. Well my 14 year old son shot one too low to the ground and it landed in dried up leaves that had us out there to begin with. We didn’t have a raging fire, it was really more like a smoldering, but I’m counting it as fire because I had a burning desire to tell you about our plan that backfired.. see how easy I made that fit with my fire theme?

Floating Fire…

My kids.. I know you are probably tired of hearing about them, because I’m tired of hearing about them.. hell sometimes I’m just tired of them period, but what’s a mom to do?

The boys are pissed at me right now. Apparently, I’m the “only mother in the world that suffers from paranoia so bad that you won’t let us stay home alone like other normal kids our age get to!”

That was a direct quote from my 15 year old. Hahaha, poor delusional kid! I told him.. “Well sugar you said it all right there.. other NORMAL kids… you and your brother are NOT normal.” All this came about yesterday afternoon when I told them to come on so we could go to the store, just having had a perfect example of my reasoning on this take place about 10 minutes before…

15 y/o: “Mom can I use the lighter?”

Me: “Hell no, you can’t use the lighter!”

15 y/o: “But I need it for an experiment.”

Me: “What kind of experiment?”

15 y/o: “I soaked some kite string in hair spray and have it tacked to the ceiling in my room. I need the lighter so I can light the end of it. I want to take pictures of it and see if it will look like fire floating in midair.”

Me:

Pfft.. and he wonders why they can’t stay home alone…

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