Murdering

I wait up for Elizabeth every time she goes out.  Mostly because I am a ball of anxiety and I am usually firmly convinced that if I don't somehow she is going to be murdered coming from the driveway to the porch.  I'm usually dozing on the couch because I'm old and have thus far been unable to force the world to accommodate my night owl tendencies (which means that for me to wake up at a decent time, I can't stay up past midnight every night like I would do on my own if left to my own devices...).  Anyways, I still wait for her in the living room so I know she is home safe.

For some reason, the other night the front door got locked, and of course Elizabeth took offense to this and claimed that we "always" lock her out of the house.  Fine, tack on another 6 months of therapy there, but I swear this is the first time I've had to get up to unlock it for her...and she has a key, for fuck's sake.  Our conversation proceeded something like this:

E:  Why you always locking the door?

Me: It's not always locked.  I usually don't lock it till you come home.

E:  Yes, it is.  What are you afraid of?

Me:  Murderers coming to get me.  Do you want someone to murder me?

E:  Oh come on.  Who's going to murder you?

Me:  A murderer.

E:  No one is going to come in here and shoot you.  We don't have anything they would want to steal anyways.

Me:  They don't have to shoot me.  Maybe they are feeling stabby.  And maybe it's just a random murderer.  Why you gotta question their motives, Elizabeth?

E: We live behind the police station, for God's sake...

Me:  Maybe they are living dangerously.  Don't question their motives.

E:  Right.  The murderers are just misunderstood.  I'm going to bed now.


Like that parenting win there?  Not only did I diffuse a potentially teenager-y fight sequence that would have made me wish I had a real prescription for Xanax, I slipped in a bit of education about the importance of not second guessing murderers' motives.  Because they's all kind of crazy, I tell you what.  And I should know, cause I know crazy.

Sometimes I do get this parenting thing right.

Random VII

Hey, bitchez.  Go check out my co-worker's self-published book on Amazon...

Minutiae, by Steve Evans.

(Click on the different colored words, Mom, and it will take you to the book which you can buy for your Kindle.  Shit, do you even have a Kindle?  Apparently there's an app for that...)

Do your good deed for the year and support a budding author.  Because 2016 is rapidly approaching and your time to do good for 2015 is rapidly dwindling.  Me, I saved hobos and little dogs this year.

Fuck.  That was 2013.  I'd better get to trippin' here.



So you know that moving little saying about pennies from heaven being ones that our loved ones leave for us as messages that they are ok?  Am I the only one that:

A.) Finds that a bit creepy.  Like seriously, they are leaving pennies lying around for us where we randomly are supposed to see them?  Might as well just send me pictures of the inside of my house because how the fuck do you know where I am going to be?  Which leads me to...

B.)  How do you know that penny was really for you?  Maybe it was someone else's penny and you just picked up and stole, along with all their hopes, dreams, and love from their loved one.  Way to get some bad karma points there, asshole.

C.)  Why the fuck can't they send us like $100 bills?  I mean, seriously, cheapskates.  Aren't the streets up there gold?  Send me a goddamned nugget already!

Me, I much prefer to visualize people up in heaven using those fuckers as like Pogs that they are shooting at people down here on Earth.  Way more entertaining and totally removes the creepy factor if you accidentally grab a penny not meant for you because it just means that someone has lousy aim and missed.



So there seems to have been a trend in Pinterest-land (or for some reason it's just showing all up in my feed) of using wine glasses turned upside down to make candle holders.  I am horribly confused as I imagine that one would get burned, possibly light the house on fire, when one flips the glass over to drink.   And then it will no longer look like a cute pumpkin or Santa or whatever the fuck you decorated it like and more like something that a tripping preschooler would decorate.  Though I suppose that you could use the flameless candles if you wanted to be a problem solver.  But I'm still confused as to why you would waste a perfectly good wine glass...perhaps it is a sign of gluttonous America and people have an excess?  Or maybe you are planning on drinking the wine out of a mason jar?  I hear that rustic shit is totally hot right now...



My sinuses have recently decided to totally flip me the bird recently and have been giving me holy headaches from hell.  Actually they are holy in the same way that Marilyn Manson is that really sweet nun down at the convent.  Apparently they have decided to join forces with the rest of my body and escalate from being mildly annoying when the weather changes to being fully incapacitated.   It's a full fledged conspiracy launched by my immune system, and it leads me to totally anthropomorphize it.  The stupid fuckers have been flaring up something fierce and I'm not having it.  Now if only they would respect my authoritar and get in line.



I just watched some people on a TV show down 3 shots in as many minutes as well as drink some beers and they are totally sober.  Conclusion?  TV show characters have a hella tolerance.  And we should probably be super concerned.