Family Monopoly

This post is completely true, no analogies needed but also totally inspired by one of my favorite bloggers, bluzdude.

He commented on my last post that I needed to stop blogging about family members because pretty soon I was going to run out of chess men and have to move onto Monopoly pieces.

He's right. In fact with just the family members I have living in my house I have run out of white chess men.

But I do love the idea of moving onto Monopoly pieces.


As you may remember, I have a notoriously bad memory, but as bad as it is for things that happened yesterday, it's even worse for things that happened when I was a child.

I do however remember that my father (who incidentally was an asshole and a half), loved to play board games, and often included my older sister and as I got older, sometimes me.

As a parent, I now understand that playing board games with children is torture. And so understanding I have decided that either my father really loved board games and had no one else to play with or had multiple personality disorder and one of his personalities was an amazing parent with a tremendous amount of patience.

Either way, we played board games: stratego, sorry, risk, clue and most especially monopoly.

However, by the time I was old enough to play the games had been going on for some time and my sister and father had their favorite colors or pieces. For example, it wasn't until Clue Master Detective came out that I got to be Ms. Scarlet (but only because my sister was Ms. Peach), before that I was Mrs. White, and in Monopoly I was the Shoe or the Wheelbarrow, because my sister was always the Scottie and my father was always the Horse.

I was so jealous of those little game pieces. I don't think there was anything else of hers that I wanted so badly, and she had some pretty cool stuff.

I liked her other things, but that damned red Ms. Scarlet piece was the center of my universe everytime we played Clue and I always wanted her to be the character guilty of murder. And during Monopoly that fucking Scottie bought Boardwalk and Park Place before I even got out of jail.

In some ways this is the very reason that I'm so glad I've got a boy and a girl. They never fight over Ms. Scarlet.

Instead they fight over other things.

Sibling rivalry is a bitch.

Hot Rook

My cousin, The White Rook, is fucking gorgeous.  I mean in the "seriously you have a daughter and still have that body?!? I hate you."  kind of way.

She wears a size 2, is 5'1" and weighs 120 lbs soaking wet.  And as if that wasn't enough, she also has curves.  The kind that give you whip lash.  And long, beautiful, natural blonde hair.

If I didn't love her so much I might try to kill her in her sleep.

She moved in 2 weeks ago, so that would totally be possible.

Anyway.

My son's best friend, (who happens to be my best friend's son) came to stay with us last weekend.  We treat him and his sisters as if they were family and they all call me "Aunt Queen" and my mother "Grandma". 

On my way back from picking up said child, I was explaining to him that Aunt Rook moved in and would be sleeping late on Saturday and he needed to be quiet and let her.

Son's BFF: Is she my Aunt?

Queen No. But you can call her Aunt Rook if you want.

Son's BFF: OK? Do I have to?

Queen: No, but the alternative is Ms. Rook. She's an adult, you can't call her by her first name. Just call her Aunt Rook and then you can go back to school and tell your friends you have a hot aunt.

Son's BFF: eyeroll

So Saturday morning rolled around, White Rook rolled out of bed and I introduced Son's BFF to "Aunt Rook".

He took one look at her gave her a huge hug, calling her "Aunt Rook" and turned to me with a vapid expression of infatuation and gave me two thumbs way up.

Young love..

Labor Day AKA Dire Hospital Situation Day

For some reason The White King likes to try to die on me on/around Labor Day.

He's tried it twice. The first time was the week after Labor Day and this time it was the week before. (And since he's only tried to die on me twice that makes it every time he's tried to die on me).

I just read that last sentence: He's only tried to die on me twice. How sad is that. How many times do most women's 36 year old husbands try to die on them.. Jeez.

Anyway.

If I didn't get to have a paid day off, I might start boycotting this Holiday.

If I Only Had a Brain

I used to. 

Or at least I think I did, I can't really remember.

And that's another thing, my memory is shit now.

My kids keep saying things like "Do you remember the first time I had beans?", and I do, but in that fuzzy way that to me means you remember someone else remembering.  If that even makes any sense.

For the last 6 weeks I've had a hole in my ear drum and as disgusting as it is, there is stuff draining from my ear (plus I can't really hear, but that's an entirely different problem).  And I keep having this thought:

What if it's my brain?

Maybe that's why I can't remember anything.

Because my brain has turned to mush and its finally gotten so mushy that it's coming out of my ear.

Is there a pill for that?

Should I save it in a cup?

Will I still have migraines when it all drains out?

Will I still have to go to work?

Its a Conspiracy

We have three dogs, a dog door and backyard full of trash.  Up until yesterday afternoon I had theories as to how the trash came to the backyard, but no proof.

Yesterday I got my proof.

My dog Checkers is a beautiful, sweet, large, stupid goldendoodle.

My son's dog, Tic, is a smart, devious, adorable dauchshund.

My daughter's dog, Tac, is a bitch.  She's also a dauchsund, and she is pretty sweet, but she's a bitch in both senses of the word.

Our trash can is tall.  So I knew that Tic and Tac would never be able to reach it, and I also knew that Checkers is way too dumb to figure out how to open the lid by himself, and also to take the loot outside to hide it.

But then I came home from the hospital to take a nap and stepped outside for a little while. 

Tic and Tac were sitting on the back porch calmly and then Checkers bolted out the dog door with a plate in mouth.  He deposited it on the ground in front of Tic and then turned around and went back inside.  In a few seconds he came back out with a lunch baggy and gave that to Tac and turned around and ran back inside. 

Meanwhile I'm sitting in my chair amazed. 

When he came back with an empty water bottle I called to him.

He had the cutest look on his face and came right to me, tail wagging.

Tic and Tace ran inside.

Damn dauchshund instigators.

Fuck You Friday

This little meme is one I used to love and this week I'm so very excited that I remembered it, because if ever there was a Friday that needed to be give a big ole finger, this is it.  (Incidentally, it's really called "Fawk You Friday", but Christy and Boobies know that I don't Fawk, I Fuck, and they're okay with that, because they love me.)




Fuck you HOSPITALS.  You smell, and you make me nervous and seriously, I know that a hospital should be health conscious and everything, but when your husband is in ICU, you need a fucking cigarette.

Fuck you KNOW-IT-ALL-HEALTHCARE-PROFESSIONALS.  I realize that you work in the healthcare industry and that you have seen alot of patients and know where this road is going.  But you don't know me.  And my husband's poor decisions are not my fault, he's 36 fucking years old and I am not his mother.  I can not and will not MAKE him do anything.

Fuck you BOSS MAN.  You're a hypocrite.  You keep everything in your world secret, but then want detailed twice daily updates on my husband's condition? And then you try to make me feel bad that I don't have more information?  And then you turn around and tell the whole office everything that I've told you?
Fuck you.

Head on over to My Mad Mind and get your own button and tell your Friday exactly where to stick it.

The Bitch Won't Always Bitch

I promise.

I'm just getting a whole lot of venting off of my chest at the moment.

Because it's hard.

When you have to put a happy face on for overly sensitive children.

And for your mother, who lives with you.

And for your niece, who lives with you.

And for most of your friends and all of your family.


See, I learned a very valueable lesson from being married to Jack.

You and your spouse are a team.  You are a united front against the children and the rest of the world.  And there are very few people who need to know that your marriage isn't perfect.
Really it would be better if no one knew.

And it's not because you need this perfect image for everyone to see.

It's because there are not many people who can hear you tell all of your husband's deepest secrets and annoying habits, who can know about all of his weaknesses and still respect him.  No one is pretty under a microscope.

And even though today I would like to kick the living shit out of The White King and possibly bury him in the backyard, he is still my husband, and I need for everyone in my world to respect him.  And they won't if they know his every flaw.

Which is why Analogy Land is so fantabulous.

Because you guys don't know The White King, or Jack, or anyone else in my world.  Or at least if you do, you don't know that you do, and neither do I.  So I can get my venting out and off of my chest without ruining a reputation or a dozen.

And I need a weight lifted.  But once the load is a little lighter, I promise the bitch won't always bitch.