Note to newly arrived college students in town

If I am driving down the road and my light is green, that means you stop and wait at the corner until I have passed through said green light. My green light is not a signal for you to begin crossing the street in front of me. If you are halfway across the street as my light turns green, I will cordially tap my breaks to allow you approximately 4 seconds to get the fuck out of my way. Otherwise, stand clear because I am usually not in the mood to scrape a skanky freshman coed off my hood.

Tissues, please.

Mina started kindergarten today.

I walked her to school this morning and we talked about what the day might bring. She was so happy and excited. I was fighting back tears.

She was fine as we waited in her designated class lineup spot. I could tell she was listening in on the 5th grade girls' conversation next to us. She's always been enamoured of older girls. She just can't wait to grow up.

All was well until the first bell rang and her teacher came out to take them inside. She looked up at me and told me that she was scared.

"I won't know what to do. What if I make a mistake, Mama?"

As much as I wanted to scoop her up and run, I fought the urge with everything in me and told her that it was the first day and everyone was bound to be confused and a little scared. I told that it she was going to be just fine.

I sounded pretty convincing too.

Oh, it's not that I don't think everything will be fine. I just know that kindergarten is such a huge 180 from what she is used to. The two years of preschool under her belt may have prepared her for some things, but they were only a few hours a day. This is a full 8:15 to 3 o'clock deal.

She seemed satisfied with my answer, but I could still see the hesitation in her eyes. All I could do was give her a hug and a kiss and step away as a woman I met just yesterday led my first born off into the big world of public education.

I have no doubt Mina will come home full of chatter yet utterly exhausted. I know she'll love school.

Me? I could probably use a Valium right about now.

Be warned

I'm on this kick lately.

I'm hunting down old boyfriends, friends and "special friends". Not for anything clandestine, mind you. I just have this burning curiosity to know where they are and what they are up to. Oh, and we have a discussion going on a parenting message board I belong to. We're dishin' proper yo.

I thought I found the boy I lost my virginity to, on Myspace. It looked a lot like him and his profile came up when I searched him name, but it wasn't him. This led to seeking out others who spent some time on my "dance card".

It's been interesting.

Anyone share my obsessive "need to know"?

I love gay porn

Last night, I finally got to watch 300.

I've decided I need to run my house as King Leonidas did. From now on, I will not politely ask my children to clean up their messes.

"THIS IS OUR HOUSE! YOU WERE BORN TO SERVE OUR HOUSE! LET NOT YOUR TOYS LAY UPON THE GROUND WHICH YOU SERVE!"

I'm going to start warrior training immediately. My girls are 3 and 5 1/2. Enough time has been lost already.

We'll start simply. There are a plethora of smarmy squirrels running rampant in the backyard, perfect for target practice. We'll move on to throwing open safety pins at the mail carrier after that.

I've got a handful of flat sheets that aren't being used right now that will be perfect for capes and/or togas.

Now, does anyone know where I can find a few dozen ripped, virile half-dressed men?

Not for my project. I'm just wondering where I could find some.

Regarding Dave Brown

After some of the comments on the last entry, I feel I should elaborate on the story a bit.

The garage sale was coming to a close. The people I was having the sale with and I were closing everything down and packing up the unsold stuff to donate. We were tired and hot and a little cranky.

A guy on a motorcycle pulled up as we were just about done. He sat there, helmet on, in front of my house for a few moments.

At first, I thought he was trying to figure out if we were done with the sale or not. But he just sat there, staring. I started to get creeped out, and wondered if I was going to have to pull out the bitch stick when he took off his helmet and started up the driveway.

"Hi there. I used to live here," he said as he extended a hand.

Giddy, I asked him what his name was. When he said "Dave", I immediately let out a laugh, "I found your little note, Mr. Dave Brown."

He looked shocked for a split second, but then said he didn't remember what it said.

I told him, and he laughed but it was a weird, nervous laugh (for the record, he is still married to the same woman he was married to when he put up those cabinets).

I think it was then that he realized that we had taken down some of his handy work.

"So, how ya' likin' the intercom system?"

"Uh...we took it out. It didn't work."

"Oh. What about the security system?"

"Ditto."

At this point, I thought he might cry. I offered that the gazebo thing he built in the backyard was still intact and was one of the main reasons we fell in love with the house. This seemed to satisfy him, and he asked to see it.

With some trepidation, I took him into the backyard. My friends were still there at this point and I can scream pretty loud, so I wasn't too worried.

I took him through the garage because I really didn't want him blubbering all over the guts of his former kitchen.

He stood on the back deck for a moment, not speaking. I didn't like it, so I started blathering on about how much we love hanging out back here, how nice it is, blah blah blah.

He just got all wistful about the tree swing. I started to feel bad for the guy, but then he started in on the intercom system again.

I changed the subject by telling him he needed to go into our shop and talk to my husband about the sprinkler system we apparently have. I told him the people that we bought the house from didn't know how to use it either. This frustrated Dave.

He said something else about something, and I again redirected the conversation to his talking to my husband at his work.

"Oh, when you walk in," I told Dave as I was pushing him back into the garage, "Walk in and say 'Yep, I remember when gas was a a buck O nine a gallon! Those were the days!' It would be HILARIOUS!"

Sadly, I think I was alone on that one.

I am such a fucking slacker

I can't believe what a complete and worthless loser I am. I haven't updated this thing in like two weeks! Jaysus H., I really need to get it together.

It's not like I have anything else to do but tippity type away all day on a blog.

OK, now that that's off my chest...


I had a gargage sale a few weekends ago, and guess who stopped by? If you guessed none other than the infamous Dave Brown, you'd be correct!

I could tell he wanted to come in and take a look around, but I got a bit of a weird vibe off of him and stopped the tour at the back yard.

I was a little afraid he would go apeshit if he saw how many of his precious cabinets we tore out, and the alarm system, and the intercom system...

I'm pretty sure keeping him outside was a good decision.