This is my little basketball star.  

I just don't understand some people.

Some people piss me off so bad, it's all I can do to grab them and shake the shit out of them.

Yesterday, I went to my daughter's basketball game and I have a lot of fun at these games because I love to cheer the girls on and encourage them. They do respond to the parents in the bleachers, whether we're screaming, "BLOCK THAT SHOT! BLOCK IT!" or "SHOOT THE BALL! SHOOT THE BALL!" There is a group of mothers that come to every game, and although we don't have a lot in common because I am, on average, 15-20 years younger than them, they are right there with me cheering our girls on, stomping their feet, and basically having a good time.

Well, right when the game started yesterday, this lady walks in and sits on the Lake Fenton side. (Our side). She doesn't sit with any of the rest of us; she sits as far away from us as possible, on the bottom seat of the left hand side. None of the moms behind me mentioned recognizing her at first, but after a few minutes one of them whispered to the other, "Isn't that so and so's mom?" Someone else responded, "Oh, yeah, that is her, isn't it?"

This woman did not even glance at the court. She brought a newpaper, that she had tucked under her arm, and proceeded to spend the entire basketball game reading the newspaper. Every time our team had a particularly good play, or whenever we scored any points, I glanced over at her to see if she was watching. She was not. She had her nose buried in the paper.

There she sat until the game was over. I got up and approached the Coach to ask him a question, and while I was waiting in line, I looked over at her once more. Her daughter was standing there telling her, "I scored six points, mom!" Her mother replied with a disconnected, uninterested, "Umm hmmm," as she finished reading her article. I couldn't believe my fucking eyes AND ears. Doesn't she care? Her daughter is a really good player on the team, very popular with her teammates, and works hard out on the court. Doesn't this woman care? Doesn't she know that the key to keeping your child out of trouble is being there, being involved, and spending time? Doesn't she know that she is literally throwing her daughter out to the wolves by showing her that her accomplishments and successes are insignificant? I am only 28 years old...this woman appears to be over 40. Surely she isn't stupid. What is she? Lazy? Totally confident that her child will excel in anything so it's not important to encourage her? I don't get it. I do not understand it. WHAT is the point of coming if all you're going to do is a read a newspaper?

My daughter chattered nonstop as we were leaving the court, and I glanced over at the mom and her daughter one more time. Mom was standing up, folding her newspaper under her arm, and the daughter was just standing there looking slightly dejected. As I passed by her, I said, "GOOD game. You did a really good job today." She looked up at me and smiled. "Thanks," she replied, a little shyly.

My daughter got annoyed. "Mom...are you listening to me?" she asked me curtly, and without waiting for me to respond, continued chattering about the game, what Coach said, what her friend Amanda did, about her debate team meeting the following night.....

I wanted to say, "Yes. I am listening. I am always listening," but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. Oh well. At least my kid talks to me.

Ugh.

I am recovering from the worst ear infection I have ever had, and although I am prone to drama a lot of times, this isn't one of them.

First off all, I get one really bad ear infection a year, and sometimes up to three minor ones. This is something I have dealt with all my life, just not like this. After I posted my last entry, I went straight to bed with a hot water bottle, which did no good. When I woke up the next day, the pain just got progressively worse and worse and no amount of Aleve or aspirin could kill it. I even sent my husband 15 miles away to get something called "ear candles" on the suggestion of my friend Lynn. When I opened the package, I was dismayed to see that I could not use them because 1.) I have two perforated eardrums and 2.) I have tubes in my ears. So I proceeded to scream at my husband, my daughter, and my dad for about an hour before deciding it was time to head to the emergency room.

When I got to the emergency room, they were very quick about checking me in and all that, but I sat there and waited, in EXCRUCIATING pain, for over an hour. I was holding my hot water bottle against my ear and crying hysterically while everyone else waiting to see a doctor kept giving me sympathetic glances. Finally, some guy came and got a group of us and set us up in little rooms. I was still rocking and crying loudly. (Embarassment? Self consciousness? What the fuck is that?) I kept grabbing my husband's shirt and twisting it in my hands, gritting my teeth and spitting, "DO something...MAKE IT STOP." To his credit, he was patient and attentive, but when you're in that much pain, NO ONE is your friend.

After sitting there for only about five minutes, I sent my husband to go refill my hot water bottle because it was getting cool. While he was gone I had my ear cocked to the side, pacing, crying, moaning and begging, and this little doctor whips back the curtain and cheerfully says, "Hi!" As soon as he really looks at me, he says, "What's wrong?"

I snapped back through gritted teeth, "I think I have an ear infection and the pain is fucking intense, and I can't take it anymore." To his credit, he was very tolerable of me. He stuck that little thing in my ears and said, "WHOA! No wonder. If you say this hurts, I believe you. You have no pus or wax in your ears, but your eardrum is red and inflamed horribly bad. Your other ear doesn't look that bad, and that's good." He was right, of course. A double ear infection is no one's picnic, but all I wanted, at that point, was something for the pain. He then told me he would give me a shot for the pain and suddenly I heard angels singing, "HALLELUJAH!" A shot! That means almost instant relief!

So he went away and for the next fifteen minutes or so I continued crying and pacing, and finally, just when I didn't think I could take anymore, in walks a nurse with a syringe and some ear drops. Anyone who knows me knows I hate eardops. I hate them with a passion. I told the nurse how bad I hated them and he said, "Well, I think you'll like these ones. These are ear numbing drops. And I'll put them in your ear in such a way that you won't really feel them." Like I said, I was in so much pain that it did not matter at that point, so I laid down on my side while my husband held my head (keep in mind that he is used to my thrashing and bargaining and screaming when I have to have ear drops), and the nurse dropped them in. I felt them swooshing into my ear canal, and that's the part I hate. Even though I cringed, I did not move. Anything to make it stop. Anything, even if that means eardrops.

Then he stuck the needle in my arm just seconds before I said, "What is that?" He said, "Morphine" and jabbed it into my arm. That stung a little, but nothing like my ear. He told my husband it would take about 30 minutes for the shot to take effect. In the meantime, the ear numbing drops ought to take the edge off the pain.

I have never had morphine before in my life. Within five minutes of the shot, I was suddenly very high. I didn't exactly like it, and I stumbled through the hospital on my way out, but it did take the edge off the pain. The very edge, mind you. The pain was still intense, but I was stoned out of my mind and although I was a little uncomfortable, I was far from hysterical. We got in the car and had to drive twenty miles to the nearest pharmacy and I was shaking, jittery, a little nauseous, but very pleasantly sleepy. Oh, all I wanted to do was sleep. My husband ran into the pharmacy with my scripts, and when he came back out he said, "They won't be ready til 10:30". It was 8:30. My first day of school was the next day, so I said, "Can you just take me home so I can go to sleep?" He said yes, and then, for some reason I don't understand, I insisted on driving. What the fuck?? I had NO business driving. I was so completely fucking out of reality by that point that I should have just passed out in the car. But I couldn't...all that movement was making me even more nauseous. So I drove us about 22 miles home, and the only things I honestly remember are 1.) my eyes just didn't want to stay open, no matter what I did and 2.) my husband screaming, "BABY WATCH OUT! YOU'RE GOING IN THE OTHER LANE!" when I had NO idea I was doing such a thing. (Of course, I was indignant. "Shut up, Shawn. I know what I'm doing.")

So we came home and I immediately fell into bed. Within minutes I was in a pleasantly deep sleep. I hadn't slept well the night before, so I embraced this drug induced coma. I did not wake up again until 4AM. My ear was still hurting horribly, so I went into the kitchen and took a Vicoden. (Part of my prescriptions.) I then fell back into my deep sleep.

When I woke up yesterday, my first day of school, I was still shaky and nauseous, but most of the pain had subsided. There was still a little discomfort in my ear but instead of taking a Vicoden I just took all my other pills and decided to wait and see if the pain got any worse. My husband had packed all my school things for me, including labeling all of my folders and notebooks so I knew which classroom to go to and what time. I stumbled through my school day, wishing I could be more enthusiastic, but I was just very tired and I could not hear a thing. My ear canal was, and still is, horribly swollen. As soon as I got home, I made myself some soup and promptly passed out until I had to get ready to go to my daughter's basketball game at 4:30. When I woke up, I didn't feel as dizzy and nauseated, but my ear still felt uncomfortably full. I went to the game, came home, and had dinner. Right after dinner...you guessed it..back to bed.

Now it's Tuesday and my ear is still very swollen, although the pain is very minimal. It's just so uncomfortable. I don't feel so good still, and my neck hurts from sleeping on my hot water bottle. I am still very tired, even though I haven't had to take any pain medication since the Vicoden I took at 4AM. I have loads of reading and even some work to do, so I have to get on it. But what I really want to do is climb back in my nice, clean king size bed with the deep blue moon and stars design on the comforter, pull the covers over my head, and sleep. Maybe I will study in bed. Hopefully I will be back to my usual self tomorrow. This is just miserable.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

I just thought and thought and thought some more about what I should put for my first entry. It's kind of hard to concentrate right now because my ear is really hurting. I get chronic earaches and I can see that I am going to be sleeping with a hot water bottle tonight. Ech! And I had a headache all day, to boot.

Enough bitching. I have to tell you what I saw today. It was so unusual that I just have to share it.

I'm sitting in the car by myself, heading over to my grandmother's house. It's a decent day, I have the windows rolled down and the radio on. (OF COURSE). I am sitting at a red light. A car pulls up on my right, and the thumping of some mundane teenybopper shit rolls into my windows and pollutes my perfect world of Gary Neuman. (Think "CARS".) This annoys me slightly, so I turn my head with the intent of glaring at some poor hapless teenager who is only acting her age, and I get the SHOCK of my life.

It was a man.

You're thinking, "Well, so fucking what?" Well, it was a man all right, a hairy one too, wearing jeans and a tee shirt with a pocket on the front. His arms were hairy and he had chest hair poking out of his shirt. He was bopping his head in time to the music and kept checking his reflection in the rear view mirror.

He was also wearing a long, curly wig and pink lipstick.

I thought my eyes were deceiving me at first, so I simply stared. He was pursing his lips, presumably to freshen the lipstick, and the curls bounced on his shoulders. He was singing to the music, or maybe lip synching. I just kept on staring, thinking to myself, "That cannot possibly be a woman. There are no breasts. There is too much chest hair. Plus, the hair looks plastic and fake." There is no doubt it was a man.

Now, I am no stranger to cross dressers or gay people. My ex was a crossdresser and although I certainly didn't like it, I tolerated it. I tried to understand how a man could love the feel of tights under his jeans. BLACK tights, always black. And I was once with a woman for 4 years, and one of my closest friends is gay. I have no problem with it at all. But if he was going to go out in public like that, why not dress up? Why only put on half the outfit and go out? That's the part that struck me funny.

He never noticed me looking over at him, as he was too busy primping his fake hair, and when the light turned green I turned right and he turned left. I called my friend Lynn and left her a voice mail about what I had seen. I guess I had to validate it in some way. She wouldn't care about the fact that he was dressed up either, but why not go all the way? Hell, maybe he didn't want to. I'm not judging. It was just strange.

About two hours later she called back and said, "So, you saw a guy wearing a wig and lipstick?" We had a good laugh as I told her the story.

Speaking of weird, I also feel compelled to mention that my gay friend, who I referred to couple of paragraphs ago, invited me to join her team on a lesbian bowling league. I am not that great of a bowler, but I think bowling is great fun, so I agreed. I will be doing this every Friday night at 6. Last night was my first night and it was great. I didn't bowl all that well (out of 3 frames my highest score was 103) but I had fun anyway. Lee, my friend, is the best bowler on our team. Her best friend is on our team as well, and she bowls like I do. We spent the night giving each other high fives and bitching when we got gutterballs. (heh heh). The alley was full of lesbians. It was fun. The only problem I have is the name of the team: the MANGINAS. Yes, as in "I am all out butch lesbian and I have a man-gina." I don't quite fit that category, but who cares? Lee thought up the name and I love her for it because that's just so incredibly HER. As long as I don't have to wear a shirt with that name on the back of it, it'll be all good.

So, anyway. Here I am, joining the fellow legion of bloggers everywhere to rant and rave about what pisses me off. I am here because I got completely addicted to http://www.waiterrant.net. That guy is a fabulously gifted writer and I read through his entire blog in one day.

Through the waiter, I got addicted to http://www.allprowaiter.blogspot.com/. I love this guy because he's incredibly honest and real in his posts. You gotta love that in a world full of blogs that do nothing but blow sunshine up your ass.

Through the insane waiter, I got addicted to http://www.bitterwaitress.com. I am still reading through this one, but I love it.

And no, just for the record, I am not a waiter, although I was one in another lifetime. (Four years ago). Loved the work, which is why I can relate to my fellow servers. I have sinced joined the ranks of the stuffy professional, but trust me, I am no yuppie. Do I look like one?

I have had a lot of what I think are unusual life experiences, and those that are not unsual are at least going to be funny. I love to write and I love to read even more, so I will be on here as frequently as possible. I am still learning my way around blogspot.com, so bear with me as I may do or say something stupid, or forget to do something that I should have done. I am really looking forward to this. Right now, I currently have a blog on Yahoo, but it's not getting much exposure, mostly because when I invite people to view it that are not Yahoo members, Yahoo harasses them into creating an account just so they can see my journal. Most people don't want to be bothered with that, which is understandable.

So, a little bit about me. I am 28 years young, married (almost 3 years), and have an almost 12 year old child. Yes, that's right. I had her when I was sixteen. Long story, definitely unusual, and will make a good blog entry. I am overweight as a result of a thyroid disease, and, I'll admit it, a love for food. I have been in the staffing industry for years. This means I worked in an office and found people jobs. Some of my stories are going to center around the people I've met in this business, but, of course, I will change names to protect the identity of the innocent. Currently, I am a housewife/soccer mom/student at Baker College. (I have been working on my degree now for almost two years. Will I EVER finish??) I experienced a lot of angst trying to find a job here in Michigan, but now I see that returning to school is the most beneficial route for me to take at this point in my life. I love music, especially the 80's, and I absolutely hate Top 40. I swear like a drunken sailor because I like it, and I always have. I can handle criticism very well, but don't try and attack me because I'll come back on you with a vengeance. I hate people who are mean just for the sake of being mean, and I detest people who think their asses need to be kissed. I am extremely liberal, politically and otherwise, and have no tolerance for ignorance at all. I am open to suggestions and respect everyone's opinions, as long as they are presented to me in a rational manner. Oh, and I have a bunch of eyebrow rings and 6 tattoos. I am not angry at all, although I suspect that someone at some point will leave a comment stating that I am a very angry person. (I get this a lot).

I moved to Florida in 2002 to escape this area. This is a very bad area with an awful job market, and I had just broken up with my long term boyfriend in July of 2002. Two weeks after that, my best friend, Heather, passed away. I moved to Pensacola in August, secured a great job there, made a lot of new friends and then met my husband in January of 2003.

Then the hurricanes started.

We lived through Ivan last year, and I decided I wasn't going to do that again, so Shawn and I moved back up to Michigan in July of this year. We bought a house and live across the street from a lake in a neat little suburban area. I have reconnected with all of my old friends and I am extremely happy with my life, more happy than when I was in Florida. I am very busy and have a lot of fun. Life is good.

So I'll be back with some story or another. I probably won't actually start advertising this blog around until I post a few more entries. I am looking for comments, people...good or bad. Lurkers are also welcome, of course. Looking forward to this.....

Oh, and this picture defines my persona to a tee. Don'tcha just love it?

This is me. Although I may look a little insane, it is important to remember that that's because I am!