My Dogs and Seafood

My dogs are spoiled little a**holes that only maintain existence and rank within my household by being painfully cute. I mean that sometimes they are so cute it hurts your heart a little, and suddenly it does not matter that they spilled their food all over the kitchen floor because they refuse to share the two dishes or that Woody in an act of defiance and rebellion ruined the foam dog bed by hiking his leg on it. No, all they have to do is lay their little heads against my chest and give me that ‘I adore you and base my entire being off of your existence’ look, and I just melt. And can they ever guilt me for scolding them! I feel bad just thinking about the poor little guys shaking and looking at me all big eyed. They are kind of like kids, they listen about as well, immediately forget what ever it was that you told them, make a considerable mess, and provide more joy and heartbreak then anything that small should ever have the right to do. Carpet Sharks.

My kid needs a lesson in sportsmanship I am sitting in my office typing this and he and the Significant Other are in the living room playing the Wii and I can hear him in here gloating because he is winning. I would not be as intent as I am about teaching him that gloating is not the nicest way to go about winning anything but I can hear him over very loud music and I should not be able to. How ever on a side note, what the hell?!?!?! My six year old is beating The Sig at the Wii? Crazy.

We were going out for lunch yesterday and The Sig insisted upon cajun seafood. Down here that is like asking for a restaurant to serve water. However we decided on a restaurant that we both enjoy and I had some remarkable blacked tilapia. That is one of the things that I love the most about living down here all of the well cooked seafood., and the sushi. I eat more sushi in a week than most people do in a month. And when I go crazy from mercury poisoning you will all know why. But hey, we only live once and you never know for how long.

Brain Surgery and Public Toilets

I have to have brain surgery. Anyone who has questions about this can call or email me. Other than that I do not really feel like going in to it any further. Just know that if I am writing less than normal it is due to the lack of feeling in my fingers and very bad head aches.

I have noticed that I rarely get to use private restrooms. This thought was sudden and also very disturbing. I was going to the restroom at work when it hit me, you see our entire floor shares one restroom, and though the company I work for is half of the floor I do not know what their extracurricular activities involve. I get to work at 7:30 and leave at 5:30, then if I go out and about with The Sig or as a family with the little man in tow then we are always some place public. I waited in a 20 minute line last night after watching Benjamin Button. Or the gym…I hate the restroom at my gym…because you know not only has foreign butt been on that seat it has been sweaty foreign butt. So I have figured out that only about 10% of my bathroom time is spent in a private bathroom. That little factoid really unnerves me. Although I am not sure why, I know that it has probably been that way my entire life.

Speaking of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, what an amazing movie. I can not wait for it to come out on dvd so I can own it. Oh, and how beautiful was New Orleans! My mother and sister went to see it and they told me they recognized houses that we had past when I took them on a walk around the Garden District. Seriously though, Brad Pitt was phenomenal bringing to life a character that could have been very unconvincing by most. The story itself wove in and out of age and time like a fine thread picked out of an amazing tapestry reminding us that life is what we make of it. I encourage anyone that has not seen it to do so!

Where is Wickkett?

So much has kept me away, a wrongful imprisonment in a mental institution of a family member, viral meningitis, and life in general. Sorry about that but life happens I suppose.

I hate the kids on the school bus. Oh, I am sure you think I am being harsh. Trust me, I’m not. The school buses now have assigned seating and my little man is forced to sit next to a older boy that hates him. I would be over reacting if it ended there. The older boy also continually tries and sometimes succeeds in getting my child in trouble. Why doesn’t this little heathen receive some kind of punishment for thi8s clearly unacceptable behavior…because he is the bus drivers cousin! The little man asked me “Mommy what does this mean?” and then he flipped me off. It turns out the older boy on the bus kept trying to get him to do that to the bus driver. Now the people out there who know me can tell you…my anger is scary. The Sig says that I just go nuclear, and he is right. It takes a great deal to make me angry these days, and even more then that to get me to go nuclear. I have become a very different person in this past year. That being said I must make a slight amendment to how my anger reacts when it comes to my child. I can go from bubbling to nuclear in 2 seconds flat, and it is only the thought of jail that keeps me from waiting around to talk to that bus driver and child. Like I said…I hate the kids of the bus.

Sad State

My head is infected. This is the final production of hurricane Gustav in my life. The infection became so bad that by Friday pus had began to seep from my piercing whole. Good times. The Sig is also infected, but his is a viral infection. He just could not understand why I got worse instead of better after my initial trip to the doctor well that is what happens when you disobey the doctors orders. So in the future when they tell me to rest you can bet I will not be running from the moment my feet hit the concrete. Although all of this rest is already making me a little nutty.

I was doing our weekly grocery shopping earlier (a task normally done by the whole family). It was strange walking through the aisle all by my onesies, sick and desperate to get out as quickly as possible. I found myself forgetting and remember a million little things and running back and forth with each one. I was all over that store in the least efficient shopping trip imaginable! Normally our grocery store is very mellow, a complete opposite of Wal-Mart. The food is a little higher but the quality is better, the stores are cleaner and less crowded, and the people are friendlier. Well, normally that is. On this excursion of inefficiency I noticed brats littering the store, screaming and pulling things off of the shelves, beeping horns, and demanding items and candy from their all to wishy-washy parents. It was everything that I could do to stop myself from picking these children up and using them to club their moronic paternal unit upside the head. For the life of me I will never understand why such a lazy society is so intent on breeding. Am I the only one that has noticed the connection between the people with the three to eight screaming kids and the people that want a hand out when ever possible? Parenthood is not easy, trust me, my son carries around a stuffed penguin that he dresses up like a doll and has lengthy conversations with, but if you put the work in then it is worth it. I am not embarrassed by my child, in fact I am generally all over very proud, and that does not mean that his attitude or demeanor were just handed to us. Oh lucky us, we have the worlds most well behaved perfect child at all times and we have done nothing…yeah RIGHT! I could fill a book with the things that my kid has attempted or managed to pull, and he is not even six. The book would be titled Five Years from Freedom and the highlight would be when he threw up in The Sig’s mouth. Ah, now THAT is parenthood, nothing easy there. But like anything else the outcome is what makes it all worth it. On the week ends we do our weekly shopping as a family, and I have never been embarrassed by my child’s behavior. Normally we end up in rather interesting discussions about the working of things, bugs, or the creation of the universe and evolution. I end the trip not in a daze, stressed, or ashamed, but laughing or at the very least smiling. I do not normally wander aimlessly through the aisle wanting to cry in confusion or pain either, but I blame the infection for that today. I also blame it for making me forget my tortillas.

Damn infection, I wanted those tortillas.

75% Stupid

I was driving with the Sig talking about the approaching hurricane when I made an off the hand comment on all of the fake storm windows on houses in our area. I always find it amusing when I notice something and then I can not unnoticed it. You would think that in the area that we live in the storm shutters would be real, like they were when plantations were here, but nooooo not the bright bulbs around here. Do they learn from history? Nope they just throw up some fake plywood shutters for decoration and bolt them down to the side of the house, you know, because that makes sense. After driving from my in laws house to my sons school I realized that about 75% of the houses have fake storm shutters and maybe two out of every hundred have real ones. Welcome to hurricane central home of the cheap and the stupid. My favorite though has to be the trailers with fake storm shutters…very intelligent.

Well, shutters aside we are pretty well prepared at our place for Gustav and Hanna, and no worries my friends. If it gets bad my little family is heading north. Until then it will be interesting.

Phenomenon

So there haven’t been any recent sightings of Elvis. I wonder what happened to him. It could just be me though, I can not remember the last time I glanced at a tabloid magazine in the line at the super market. That is how I kept my Elvis knowledge up to date after all. Still I was beginning to feel like the tabloids were letting me down a little, gone are the days of Elvis, alien children, and three headed chickens. Those great stories were replaced by more celebrity sleaze. How ever it could not be just the regular who slept with who, no it has to be over the top, since it is a tabloid after all. I feel slightly betrayed. Maybe that in itself is why I have not seen any Elvis news, maybe that is why I have not noticed the tabloids at all, it all just blends together these days. I did how ever see a magazine calling a actress over weight when she could have only weighed 130lbs at the most. It made me want to vomit.

Speaking of the wacky, has anyone else been as amused by this Bigfoot nonsense in the news as I have? The DNA evidence came back from the labs and apparently it belongs to a opossum. Not that much of a difference right? I mean anyone could confuse the two. Both live in the woods. Both are fuzzy. Hehehe, the autopsy results are still pending, and I can not wait. After all anyone that has followed my writing knows that out of all of the mythological creatures Bigfoot is the only one that really unnerves me. I think that the reasoning behind it is simple enough, we do not know enough about Bigfoot for me to feel confident enough on how to kill it should I need to. Vampires, mummies, zombies, I am all over those, Bigfoot…not so much. Maybe I should go and observe so opossums, I could collect some new data.

A Ticket to Hell has Never Been Funnier

If hell actually exists I am probably going there. I always use to joke around about going to hell, but I never put any stock behind it. On the whole I try to be a good person, and not just to the people around me but also to strangers. I do not do it for ‘good points’ or anything like that, I just do it because I want to do what I can to make the world a little better. Anyway, back to the subject of me going to hell… So I was cracking up over a very un-PC joke that The Sig made yesterday, and trust me when I say that though The Sig is not a racist or insensitive person with the way he jokes sometimes it would make you wonder. He’s kind of like Carlos Mencia, but as a white guy it doesn’t quite work out as well for him. He horrified a co-worker of mine once because I mentioned that midst joke he called me a ‘soggy-cracker’ personally I thought the term was hilarious and pretty original. I mean half Mexican half White, soggy-cracker, pretty clever, my co-worker didn’t think it was funny however. Like I said she was horrified, I had to explain that he had a very quirky sense of humor. However as I was tearing up with laughter yesterday I thought to myself about how many people would frown at us at that moment because they lacked senses of humor, and that made me come back to the question if a higher power exists can take a joke? I have always held a strong ‘yes’ to both of those, how ever I have to wonder. I think the strange whacked out beliefs I do have are falling under question yet again. I guess this is what you would call a crisis of faith, not religious, but definitely spiritual. I have felt this crisis threatening for about a month now, since that terrible accident on the eighth took a very important person from my life. Who knew that it would take The Sig and I laughing at the short bus to really bring it crashing down on me. Some people turn to religion in their times of trial, like my mom, she has gone completely ‘end of the world is upon us’ Christian. I have never been one of those people. I do not agree with organized religions at all, but I do have my own beliefs, and at the moment I find that they are all being called into question. Interesting I started this article today with the intention of writing about how I am probably going to be going to hell in a hand basket because the higher power does not have the sense of humor that I suppose, and I end up writing something about a crisis of faith. Hmmm…I think my soul might be a little to heavy for my own good.