Trying to teach my 15 year old son to drive, is the best cardiovascular workout I have had in years. By the time we reach our destination, I am sweating my ass off, have pumped God only knows how many gallons of blood throughout my body per second, I’m winded and ready to fall in a worn out heap of spent muscles on the ground. When he turns 16 and is able to get his license, I am either going to be the healthiest woman alive or dead from a massive coronary.

It’s starting to worry me a bit actually. I’m wondering if I should have been checked out by my doctor prior to taking on this new workout regimen. I’m pretty certain that doing nothing more than sitting there, should not produce heart palpitations, shortness of breath, leg and arm cramps, along with the occasional nosebleed that will sometimes, not always.. just sometimes accompany being thrown into a dashboard when someone going 50 mph decides to stop on a dime.

And no I am not buckled up in case anyone caught that. I just can’t bring myself to do it, even though I know I should. Normally I do, but when he is driving I just can’t.. I have this need to remain untethered in case I need to dive into the driver’s side and take control of the vehicle or something. Anyway…

I’m also a bit concerned that the muscles in my right leg are going to develop at a faster rate than those in my left. But since I spend the entire time he’s driving, trying to bore a hole through the passenger-side floor board in an attempt to apply the brakes, this can’t be helped. I’m now thinking that passenger side brakes should come standard on all cars for this reason alone. You have no idea how many times I’ve needed the damn things.

Poor kid, I’m actually surprised he is doing as good as he is. He always has the whole lot of us in the car with him when he drives, because it’s usually coming home from school, going to the store and things like that.

He has my 6 year old in the back acting as the town crier of speed limits and road signs. Non-stop calling out everything she reads.. “The speed limit is 50!” “Construction Ahead!” “The speed limit is 35!” “The speed limit is 15. There are children at play!” “Merge!”

My younger son, also in the back seat, saying stuff like, “I think I’m going to be sick. P you scare the crap out of me!” “Slow down I have to roll the window down so mom won’t puke.” Then he proceeds to poke his butt out the window and let whatever has damn died inside his ass out. This is something that I not only highly encourage, it is now a rule since I sure enough will gag and puke, just like I have on numerous occasions. Honest to God the kid is lethal!

Then, of course, he has me sitting next to him, impersonating an opera singer as he puts it… which I most certainly am not! I’m just highly excitable during that time. But he claims that I start off in my normal voice and go up in octaves until I reach the end of my sentence…

“Stay in your LANE!” “Watch out for that DITCH!” “Stop! Stop! Stop! STOP!”

I’m kind of scared for when he finally gets to go off on his own. I honestly don’t know how he will manage without all of us there to help him.

30 Groovy Comments

I might have to hunt down one of our regular visitors here.. (hmm… maybe I should keep her nameless.. pffft to hell with that.. KRYSTAL). That blasted woman deserves any amount of bodily harm I deem necessary and would like to afflict on her not so fair person. She knew the score, had read my Sock Numbering post.. but I suppose she thought it would be fun to…

DRIVE ME FRIGGING CRAZY!!!

She left me a message on my instant messenger this morning, just hanging there waiting for me…

[08:53] *****: Are you there?
[08:53] *****: Check this out…..when you get a chance. You being OCD, this will drive you nuts.
[08:53] *****:
http://members.iinet.net.au/~pontipak/redsquare.html

Ohhh the taunting nature of it all.. just look at the temptation that was laid out before me.. a mysterious link, unwanted, unasked for.. tossed right before my eyes. To me.. an admitted obsessive personality type. Like I would be able to resist clicking, ha! As if my person contained enough self control to NOT click on that link. I tried.. I honestly tried. But she kept messaging me drawing my attention to the link.. bugging me…

The temptation was becoming unbearable. I had to know what lurked beyond the link, what was waiting there, what would refuse to unlock its jaws from the death bite I knew it was about to unleash on my ass. I lasted 8 minutes…

[09:02] Cathy: screw you bitch!
[09:02] Cathy: dont send me shit like those squares
[09:02] Cathy: now I will be doing this shit all day until I get to 18 seconds
[09:02] Cathy: so far 5.656 is my best time
[09:02] Cathy: I have a long way to go

I immediately became obsessed with reaching the 18 seconds the site’s author considered “doing brilliantly”. I wanted to reach 18! I NEEDED to reach 18!! I was not going to stop UNTIL I reached 18!!! She, on the other hand, felt mocking me was a good idea…

[09:02] *****: Oh….LOL. Sorry….I thought they were funny. I got to 14 and I gave up!
[09:03] *****: Wow…I haven’t been called a bitch in a long time. LOL
[09:03] *****: I am, I just hide it well.
[09:03] *****: I’m laughing so hard right now. LOL
[09:03] Cathy: 6.75
[09:03] *****: Wanna race?
[09:03] Cathy: .531
[09:03] Cathy: lol
[09:03] Cathy: hell no!

I had a shortlived moment of hope…

[09:04] Cathy: whoohooo
[09:04] Cathy: 11 sec

But she just had to keep taunting me, and the second obsession kicked in.. I needed to beat her…

[09:04] *****: 13.125
[09:04] *****: 15.718
[09:05] *****: 12.547
[09:05] *****: Arghhhhhh
[09:05] Cathy: 17.23

That’s right bitch.. I’m winning.. I’m winning! Ahh, silence.. manna from heaven. She finally shut the hell up so I could concentrate… Damn! She starts messaging me again..

[09:10] *****: Did you get it yet?
[09:10] *****: they start going faster.
[09:10] Cathy: no damn it
[09:10] Cathy: leave me alone
[09:10] Cathy:
[09:11] *****: LOL
[09:12] *****: You almost had it at 17.23.
[09:12] *****:

Mwahahahha! Mwahahahahahaha!!!

[09:13] Cathy: 18.063!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
[09:13] *****: Yay!!!

I would be a happy camper if only the story ended there.. but no it doesn’t. Here it is, almost 5:00 in the afternoon, I have not accomplished any work at all, and the obsession feeder is probably sitting there wondering why I haven’t replied to her 100000000000 messages she has left me or anyone else’s for that matter…

IT’S DRIVING ME FRIGGING CRAZY!!!

I NEED to get to 20 so I can stop this madness. I’m starting to think that rounded numbers suck almost as much as obsession feeders.

Note: Krystal knows that I dig her obsession feeding ass and that all references to her being a bitch are done in the most loving of ways. Ain’t that right bitch?

15 Groovy Comments

I’ve been reading several blog posts and comments here lately about Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. This is a subject that, unfortunately (for my children mainly), I am rather well versed in.

I honestly never knew I was OC until my doctor handed me a pamphlet about Paxil and said, “Here, read this, it sounds like they wrote this specifically for you.”

I was genuinely taken aback. I mean who the hell knew that numbering your children’s socks was not normal? I certainly didn’t. I thought it was rather clever on my part since there are so many various degrees of staining that can take place on boy’s white socks. You have the red clay stain, black dirt stains, wore my socks outside without shoes on stains, etc.

I think that it’s pretty damn obvious that sock numbering has its benefits. When you do so, each sock in the pair is sure to be at same level of stainhood and it makes it easy to sequester that pair and deem it no longer worthy to be known as anything but play socks.. “Boys.. sock pair #13 is now designated as play socks only.”

It was his third degree questioning routine about me not letting them leave the house unless the sock numbers matched exactly or at least matched in certain combinations, that gave me a moment’s pause and the time I needed to realize that he just might have a point. He claimed that while he could understand how numbering my children’s socks might be beneficial in numerous ways.. that not allowing them leave the house unless these combinations were met, was just downright freaky and far from normal, and keeping them out of school because of it was just WRONG.

So, of course I needed to explain my theory, but each time I spoke he wrote something down on his little prescription pad. I explained.. “Well I’ll let them leave if they have a 5 and a 10, but I wouldn’t be able to let them go out wearing a 2 and 4.”

He asked. “Well what’s wrong with a 2 and a 4, if a 5 and a 10 are okay? They are both halves. I don’t understand where the difference is.”

So I told him, “Because 5 and 10 are both rounded numbers. You know.. round to the nearest 5 or the nearest 10? But a 2 and a 4 are just even.. nothing more.. just even.” He wrote something on his little pad.

Then he asked if there were other allowed combinations and I told him, “Of course there are! There are 10 and 20, 5 and 15, 15 and 20, and of course 3 and 6.” He jotted some more and said..

“Okay, I see the pattern with all of them being rounded numbers, but you lost me with 3 and 6. What is so special about those numbers? They are just a half, nothing more.. just a half, like you said about 2 and 4.”

I said, “Right! But these numbers are 3 and 6 so they are different.” He jotted some more and I started getting nervous. When I’m nervous I tend to ramble, so I just went ahead and explained, “3 is half of 6, but 3 is odd and 6 is even, so that makes them similar to a 2 and 4 combo or a 4 and 8, yet vastly different at the same time. See? Do you understand? They are, therefore, unique in their own way, just like a rounded combo.” He jotted some more.

Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and I broke down and asked him, “What do you keep writing?” That’s when he handed me the little Paxil pamphlet, said it sounded like they had written it for me and added.. “At first I thought we would start you off with 10mg, but the more you spoke the more I realized that was just not going to be enough.”

I walked out of there with a prescription for a month’s supply of Paxil.. 40mg of Paxil a day! I found it rather embarrassing to be honest with you and decided right then and there that I would never tell him about playing Electronic Yahtzee so long while sitting on the toilet that I was starting to fear a development of hemorrhoids..

Playing & playing, until I won at least 3 in a row with scores ending in a 5.

32 Groovy Comments

It’s one of those days when I feel completely like an “Un-Groovy Lady”. I woke up this morning to lo and behold…

Herpes simplex (virus)! What an unsightly thing to have to look at first thing in the morning. Why couldn’t it have been a zit or something I can provide an immediate fix? Maybe, just maybe it’s a heat rash…yeah, right wishful thinking. I thought I would try the Law of Attraction…pffft! Can we rewind to yesterday morning? Oh heck no! What is wrong with me?! Yesterday morning I woke up to greet Aunt Flo!

To say the least, I just want to hide my face so no one can see this hideous cold sore.

So, I’ll see you in 7 days… when Aunt Flo leaves too and I’ll feel groovy once more.

4 Groovy Comments

I just got off the phone with my sister-in-law. It appears my little niece who just turned 12, got a Valentine’s gift yesterday morning that no one will envy.

After getting dressed for school, she came down to breakfast with huge tears in her eyes. My SIL was obviously concerned and asked her what in the world was wrong. After beating around the bush for about 5 minutes she finally wailed.. “Well.. that woman thing has happened…” and broke into gut wrenching sobs.

My SIL, being the wonderful mother that she is, and remembering that feeling, immediately started relating to the situation, and trying to console her. She was trying to make it all more upbeat and telling her what a special moment it was.. how she was now a “woman” and so on. When suddenly, her normally quiet, sweet tempered daughter turned on her. She had a look in her eyes that can only be induced by Mother Nature, and started screaming at the top of her lungs, “Would you pul-ease just be quiet and go away?!? Pul-ease!!! Can I not just be left alone for a minute?!?”

Guess PMS starts from day one too, huh? Poor thing.. it made me almost want to cry thinking about her having to deal with that now and for the next 40 or so years. But then being the warped individual that I am, I cheered up. All it took was thinking about my brother and all the years of torture he put me through and realizing that justice will finally be met. It’s fine by me that it will be his daughter carrying it out.. as long as it’s carried out, that’s all that matters. I’m so mean.

3 Groovy Comments