Category Archives: total chaos

People of Walmart Fight Back

Today has been overly eventful. I feel like a fretful child who has just come from a birthday party (with clowns) where she ate too much cake and is now crying because she is tired and sticky and has to bathe.

Except I didn’t go to a party, I’m not a child, and I’m not planning on bathing.

My day started with a two hour drive to see an allergist who actually knows her ass from a hole in the ground. It was refreshing. The actual allergy testing, not so much.

And I did this voluntarily. I told you I was crazy.

Believe it or not, I actually have a normal-sized arm. Pictures can be deceiving.

I was early for my appointment because I underestimated how awesome I am at directions, so I ended up with some free time to explore the town. I deduced that the citizens of this place would be fancier and in better shape than my unkempt self, basing this solely on the ungodly amount of gyms and hair, nail, and tanning salons.

This would later prove to be an utterly false assumption.

I’m sure you’ve all seen People of Walmart. If not, you better go take a peek. I’ll wait.

walmart

And you thought I was weird.

Anyway, I was super tired by the time I got to the store. I gathered up my few purchases after searching all over that motherfucker for mothballs just like I do every single time (they are by the ironing boards, just like always), and went to the checkout.

I chose Express Checkout 20 Items or Less based on the cashier. Not too old, not too young. The old ones are slow and follow every single rule. I don’t have time for that price check bullshit. I’ll give you a dollar for it. The really young ones are the same way. What you want is a checker who has been there long enough that the brainwashing has worn off, or one who just loves people so much that they will do anything in their power to make your shopping experience end well.

There was a group of three shoppers in front of me; Dad in an electric cart, and a grown man and woman who in my mind became brother and sister, but in reality I have no idea.  Anyway. I knew we were all fucked when my perfect cashier up and left. The young man who replaced her was one of those guys who you know just loved telling people, “I’m sorry. It’s store policy.” while staring at you blankly even though you have a binder and obviously know how to fucking coupon, dude!

The lady in front of me didn’t like it either. He was screwing up her coupons, the line was getting all long and shit, and her face was getting red and blotchy.  Next thing, Checker-Guy walks off with a coupon, presumably to verify something, but I think he was just gassy.

At this point, my legs were killing me. My cart happened to be next to the empty checkout which, had it held another cashier, could have saved us all some grief, Walmart. So I took a seat on the bagging carousel and opened my Coke. The cashier finally returned and never said a word about the delay. Let me remind you that we were in the Express Lane. He finally gets all the lady’s coupons in and…she thinks he messed up. She requires a printout and then verifies each and every coupon, I assume for each of her 20 items BECAUSE THE SIGN CLEARLY SAID 20 ITEMS OR LESS. She was obviously very flustered and I felt for her, I really did. It wasn’t her fault she was trying to save money and her dad is disabled and her brother wears funny pants. Goddamn it, life.

She goes to pay (finally) and drops her debit card. Of course, since this is a fucking comedy of errors, it falls between the motorized cart and the counter. She can’t reach it and Dad seems oblivious, or maybe he just wasn’t moving fast enough for her. Next thing I know, she grabs the basket of the motorized cart with both hands and shoves it backwards, Dad and all, directly into my shopping cart, which slams into me, knocking me off my perch in the bagging area and into the wall of the checkout behind me. All this happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to curse. It was like a row of dominoes, and I was the last one.

Or get your ass kicked; either way.

Or get your ass kicked; either way.

Doesn’t-Give-A-Shit-Cashier didn’t even look at me. Violent Coupon Lady paid for her stuff and stomped away.  Silly-Pants Brother laughed at me (I laughed back) and asked if I was okay, and Dad In the Cart said “Whoa. This thing has reverse?”

I was over my limit on interacting with people before I even went in the store.  Then I got assaulted. With a shopping cart. Today I have been poked, scratched, told my nose is crooked and has a crease in it and that I have dark circles under my eyes, was covered in itch dots, had blood drawn, talked to 11 strangers, and been knocked ass over teakettle in a grocery store.

fort


Because Good Decisions Are My Specialty

Well, the new perspective lasted for about two days.  Friday I was feeling especially useless, so of course I got into some things I shouldn’t have, and now I feel like microwaved death.

Things I Accomplished on Friday, otherwise known as Didn’t I Used to be Smarter Than This?

  • Drank 3 cups of coffee and topped it off with an extra-strength 5-hour energy drink.  I was shaking so badly that when my neighbor came over, she used an app on her phone to check my heart rate.  Also, I accused her of taking pictures of my feet without asking.  I was just a little wound up.  I’m not sure she’ll ever come back.

 

Bing Images

Bing Images

                                                                                   

  • Attempted to weed around my rose bush.  Forgot that roses have thorns.  (Of course I know that every rose has its thorn.  Just like every night has its dawn.)

 

  • Took a bath to calm down and meditate, but took a non-fiction medical textbook and highlighter with me.  Did not bathe, meditate, or relax, but did drop blue highlighter in bath water.  A blue tint is not a good look for me.

 

mysmurfvillage.com

mysmurfvillage.com

  • Cleaned off the porch and picked up the yard.  This was only stupid because I had plans Saturday and I was supposed to be taking it easy.  Husband:  I thought I specifically told you not to do that.  Me:  See what happens?

 

  • Husband called and asked me a question.  I responded with, “What day is it?”  He said, “Friday, why?”  Me: “I have no idea.   But thanks.”  From now on, I’m just going to answer all questions with “what day is it” because it confuses people while making me briefly sound as if I have a plan and/or know the answer to their question.

 

  • Told my oldest child that he could dye his hair black and build a meth lab in his room.  These people around here are always giving me a hard time, and one of the things they say is that I “stifle their creativity.”  This is usually said after I’ve vetoed the purchase of a mobile waffle wagon or asked someone to stop singing and playing guitar at 3 am.  So when he said he was going to build a lab in his room (thank you, Walter White) I said, “Well, you do need to make some money.”  I maybe should’ve just asked what day it was.  Thing 3:  You really need to work on your parenting skills.  Maybe take a class…something.

 

Since I obviously know all about making good decisions, parenting, and general success at life, this week I am going to:

  1. Attempt to finish a blog post that I’ve been putting off and off and off.  (Yes, Aussa, that one.)
  2. Write the 17 articles that I should have started working on last week.
  3.  Attend one parent teacher conference.
  4.  Try to survive a field trip to a drive-through safari with approximately 20 children under five years old.

I also intend to:

  1. Shower at least three times twice.  (No need to go overboard here.)
  2. Wear clothes that match when I leave the house.
  3. Pet my cat and hopefully a kangaroo.
  4. Drink more water and zero energy drinks.
  5. Sit on my porch.
  6. Color.

I’m all about attainable goals these days and, I hate to brag, but I’m pretty sure I can do at least 3 of those things.

 

 

 


5 Things I Should Stop Saying, According to My Children

My kids are super smart and funny.  This is generally an asset, because it makes it easier to get a babysitter.  But when they turn their wits against me…well, sometimes it gets ugly.  According to Them, I say some things in the heat of the moment that are not Kid Approved.

Please note:  I am not going to stop saying these things, because these kids are not the boss of me.

1.  You’re not the boss of me.  (They aren’t.)

2.  Whack, as in, “Yo, dude, that’s whack!” (With hand motions.)

3.  Laying the mack down.  (Apparently this isn’t even a thing?  They claim I’ve confused my hammer pants with my wrestlers.)

(Okay, so they might have a point on this one.)

 

4.  Groovy, right on, and what what!  (This is called positive reinforcement.  I’m boosting their ungrateful little egos.  I don’t see a problem here.)

5.  Your mom!  (Because I’m their mom.) (I guess.)

your mom

 

I have also compiled a list of things I’m going to start saying because that’s just how I roll.  (What what!)

1.  You better check yo self before you wreck yo self!

2.  Bombdiggity.  (I don’t even know what this means, I’m just going to insert it randomly into conversations and see what happens.)

3.  Stop judging me!  I gave you life!

4.  Fo shizzle.

5.  No, you can’t have any money.  (This one is my favorite.)

 

Of course, I also have to include a list of things I have actually said to or about my kids in the past.  If you’ve ever tried to raise wild goats or feral pigs, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.

Source:  Pinterest

Source: Pinterest

1.  Did you eat poop?!?  Tell me!  OH MY GOD, I THINK SHE ATE POOP!

2.  Stop hitting your brother with that hot dog!  No, don’t eat–okay, eat it.

3.  Don’t forget to comb your teeth and brush your hands!

4.  This is a blanket and it is warm.  No, it’s not the unicorn blanket.  No.  It doesn’t matter.  This one is purple.  *stomping down hallway in the middle of the night, grumble-cursing-whispering goddamn unicorn fucking blanket anyway*  Here!  Unicorn blanket.  Now we sleep, okay?

5.  You need to get your priorities straight. (How did this happen?  Am I…responsible?  *shudders*)

 


I Won’t Run From a Six-Year-Old. (Cause they are fast as hell.)

Confession time:  Little kids freak me out.

Not my own kids!  My kids are not freaky at all.  But scary kids, like in movies?  I can’t stand them.  I don’t know why, but a creepy little person is 100 times scarier to me than a zombie, a serial killer, a ghost, or even a snake.

It might be the whole can’t-defend-yourself-because-you-don’t-want-to-hurt-a-kid thing.  I’m not sure.  (Also, I could totally kick a kid’s ass if I had to.  Don’t test me.)

Anyway, it’s rainy and yucky outside and some little shits have been prank calling me all day.

I’ve tried to laugh it off.  Ha ha!  Little bastards.

Me:  Hello?

Them:  What do you call a scary dream about a horse?

Me:  *confused*  What?

Them:  A NIGHTMARE!  HAhahahaha, heehehehehe, hahahaha.  (Maniacal child laughter.  There had to be at least 10 of them.)

Me:  *still a bit confused*  WHAT??

Them:  *Click.*

Me:  *shakes head*  Ha, silly kids, just having fun, ha ha ha.

*staring at phone*  OH MY GOD THEY SAID NIGHTMARE. 

*still staring at phone*  Don’t be silly, just kids, ha-ha. 

 *looking for weapon*  ARE THE DOORS LOCKED?  OH, SHIT.  I hate kids.*

A little later…

*ring, ring*

Me:  H…hello?

THEM:  *In a freakishly terrifying and childish voice*  Can I sing you a song?

Me:  What?  No.  NO.  Who. Is. This?!

Them:  We just want to make your day!  Wanna hear a song?

Me:  *CLICK*

So there you have it.  I have barricaded us in the house and no one is allowed to answer the phone.  The only way this could get worse is if they called and asked if I was in the house alone.  WHICH I’M NOT.

And now I’ve scared myself.  Awesome.


Life is Mean and My Cat is a Vampire. Apparently.

Lately things have been yucky and stinky and vomity (this is my blog and I say vomity is a word) and snowy and for fuck’s sake I can’t take it anymore!

Okay, that’s probably an exaggeration.  The ‘can’t take it anymore part’ anyway, because really, my options are limited.

Let me fill you in.  So, of course there was the unfortunate gynecological incident.  Then we all got this terrible, no good stomach flu that almost killed us.  I’m exaggerating again.   No one was near death.  But it was gross.  Very, very disgusting.

Then we all got colds.  Bad ones.  With snot.  Lots of it.  Then we got the stomach virus AGAIN.

During these bouts of sickness I was, of course, having migraines because as you all know, my body hates me.

So, now we are finally, finally all feeling at least half-human and all the things I haven’t accomplished in the past month have grown into this gigantic pile of Things Stephanie Has Fucked Up and I’m really afraid it’s going to topple and bury me beneath it.

Now I’m going to leave you with a random sampling of Shit My Family Says to Me and hopefully I’ll be more coherent and less whiny next week.

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Thing 3:  The cat has a hole in her butt.  I just saw it.

Husband:  Uh…

Me:  Um…

Thing 3:  Don’t worry, I didn’t put anything in it.

grumpy cat no

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Thing 2:  (Loudly, at dinner with extended family) I don’t even know why we celebrate Easter.

Me:  *puts head in hands*  Oh.  Dear.  God.

*shocked silence*

Thing 2:  *Very quietly*  I mean, I know why it’s a holiday, Jesus and stuff, but I just don’t get the rabbit.

Who does, really?

Who does, really?

**********************************************************************

Me:  Don’t be ridiculous, I’m awesome.

Thing 1:  Yes.  If by “awesome” you mean hard to love.

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Husband:  I’m not here to judge.

Me:  *reflects silently*  I think I am.

Husband:  Oh, I know.  I think you’re judging for the both of us.

Me:  Haha!  Right?  I’ll handle this, don’t worry.

Husband:  You should tell people that.  Say “I’m judging for two.” and rub your belly.  Then when they say, “Oh, are you expecting?” you can say, “Yeah, I’m expecting you to fuck up.”

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Thing 1 to Husband:  How did we wind up with this version?  We need an upgrade.

Me:  *Sputters*  What?! You’re think you can just trade me in for a new model?

Husband:  Mom two-point-whoa.

*Both nod.*

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Thing 3:  Mom!  Momma!  Leeloo is a vampire!

Me:  Leeloo is not a vampire.  Leeloo is a cat.

Thing 3:  Then why does she have pointy teeth and sneak around at night?

Me:  …

Thing 3:  *Triumphant*  Because she’s a vampire.