The Blue Light Special

On my BIG list, of things I envision in our life as the Cleavers, has always been a ping pong table. Why? Damned if I know.

Pool table? Nice, but honestly, you have to have an epic room to have a pool table set up (because no, it will NOT be the centerpiece of the living room). A ping pong table is good clean fun (and pool can be so very dirty...) and would also get Big O and the Honey something that is neither sport NOR Video game.

At our old house a ping pong table was never an option, but this house has a porch that is crying out for a folding green table. With small rubberized paddles (stop that) and featherweight balls that wouldn't damage anything if they got away.

So it seemed like destiny when KMART had a one day special on Friday. Eighty bucks for my slice of the american dream. Now, friends, eighty bucks is nothing--Except for the ever hovering spectre of abject poverty that flashes at the sides of my vision like some evil ghost of christmas future. But Kmart, my friends, specializes in abject poverty. They gots them the lay away. Sheeee-it.

So off I went to squander the extra hour I had, because work let us off early to prepare for the Christmas party. An hour should be long enough to put one item on the lay away, no?

Aw, HELLS NO, y'all.

This is the Central Valley, and I was goin' to the Southside. Unlike the northside Kmart, which they tore down to build a lovely Eddie Bauer/J Jill/ REI complex more in keeping with the Northside's yuppie ideal, southside has their lay away in the same hallway as the bathrooms. Because really, who doesn't want to stand in line as the great unwashed brush much too close to you on their way to and from the facilities?

For the entertainment of the masses, let me present the family Crack. Mama crack needs a bath. A toothbrush. Some basic hygeine. She's waiting for the clerk to fetch her christmas goods from the lay away. I know how to say it now. It's The Lay Away. Daddy Crack is there to move the basket around in random patterns while waiting for the clerk to fill it up. Uncle Crack is bitching about the injuries he got in Iraq--they all think that's hilarious. Oh, he was also in Vietnam and Korea. Uncle Crack looks maybe forty--which means he is probably twenty five in human years, and fifty in crack years. Look! Here comes grandma Crack, who drops off crack baby, because he needs to go. Mama Crack think it's hilarious to shove him into the men's room and kick him in the ass on his way in. She could have been punting a football. Bitch. He's maybe five or six. The clerk has come back with their stuff (finally) and they are poring over their stuff (and props to Crack Parents, they have made sure their kids are getting Christmas). As the clerk disappears to find the next pile of stuff, the sounds of crying come from the bathroom.

"Moooommmaaa.... Moooooommmmmaaaaaa!"

Mama Crack is joking with uncle Crack, and ignores the cries.

"Momma, help meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"WHAAT?"

"IT'S stuuuuck!"

"AAAAAAAIIIIIIII!!!!!!!"

Now he's really screaming.


AAAAIIIIII!!!! IT's Stuck in my butt! MAMA!!!! THE DOOKIE IS STUCK IN MY BUUUUTT!!!!!

MAAAAAAMMAAAAAAAA...The dookie is stuck in my buuuuuuuuuutttt!


I was trapped for almost my entire bonus hour with the family Crack, and the dookie was stuck in his butt.

But my freaking ping pong table is on The Lay Away. I'm so sending the Honey to pick it up.

Shut up, Scary Mary! SHUUUUUUUUUUUUUT UUUUUUUUP.

'Kay, I am not a fan of things that start on their own. If I want to hear it, there is a "Play" button conveniently located. Mary is annoying the shit out of me on my own freaking blog. So Wrong.

So, it's just meh. Yes I had a quiet family dinner the night before my birthday, but upon further reflection, I made dinner and I got us all there, and that was a present to myself. The honey was an ass last night, and if I enjoyed listening to him puke, well, it still doesn't count as a present.

I feel stupid and childish that I am completely butt-hurt that my parents didn't call on or around my birthday. I am 37 years old, it's not like I doubt that they love me, so I feel whiny and needy. My brother called me from Disneyland (Okay, my birthday is also his anniversary, so it's hard for him to forget), my uncle, who I never talk to, emailed me. It's been almost a week and I have not heard anything from my mother.

I hate being whiny and feeling stupid. Hate it. I feel greedy and stupid for wanting the honey to get me a present--but would it kill you to show the foresight to get me a card? To figure something out BEFORE my birthday? I am wallowing here, and I cannot stand to be in my own head. But he was a complete ass last night, so it just unleashed the flood. Resentment and long term grudge, thy name is Jennifer.


This has been another whiny self pitying post by jen. I should probably have some Bon Jovi playing.

Rock and Roll, baby!

So today at work we were forced to change the radio station as the alterna-pop station played Bon Jovi for the third time. Bre said he sounds constipated, Ann said he sounds like Adam Sandler doing a parody of an 80's rock ballad. Do you see why I luv these wimmin?

Lo and behold, the rockin' cool AM station was playing yet another song that I adore and Bre is too young to remember. Okay, this one was not a SPECIAL favorite or anything, but a trip to Wal Mart the Dentist with a Rush song beats a slow work day trapped with Jon Bon Jovi and his impacted colon.

I was amused to find debates about the intended deeper meanings of this song. Rush has some deep and meaningful songs, but man, who has time to ponder those once you've retired your bong? They rock, and I love 'em. I still want to see them live, and am very jealous that the Mind has seen them multiple times. But I just don't have it in me to actively debate the deeper implications of ANY rock ballads anymore. Is that parenthood? Old age? Is my iTunes membership going to be revoked now that I have confessed?

Oh, yeah--the song.


There is unrest in the forest,
There is trouble with the trees,
For the maples want more sunlight
And the oaks ignore their pleas.

The trouble with the maples,
(And they're quite convinced they're right)
They say the oaks are just too lofty
And they grab up all the light.
But the oaks can't help their feelings
If they like the way they're made.
And they wonder why the maples
Can't be happy in their shade.

There is trouble in the forest,
And the creatures all have fled,
As the maples scream "Oppression!"
And the oaks just shake their heads

So the maples formed a union
And demanded equal rights.
"The oaks are just too greedy;
We will make them give us light."
Now there's no more oak oppression,
For they passed a noble law,
And the trees are all kept equal
By hatchet, axe, and saw.