Not So Blonde

Swinging my tail

The kid is at his dad’s house tonight so I probably don’t have to hurriedly rush through a bulleted post. I may even get around and be social tonight, although it’s nearly 10 so don’t hold me to it.

It’s kind of nice having the internet to myself but the teen may as well be here since I’ve had teen, teen, teen on the brain lately. I might get mushy, I’m pms’ing. Fair warning.

I didn’t take M to his dad’s this morning since M didn’t have football practice til 2. I saw the kid quickly gobbling down a huge serving-size bowl of cereal and I was like - hold the damn phone. Why are we doing this?

I told the kid to go back to bed and I’d call his dad to tell him to come get him later. The dad could surely drag his butt to my place over me racing the kid over to his house at 6am, barely making it to work on time.

I was in a pretty bad mood this morning (that pms thing) so the dad got one of those voicemails that probably make him wonder what the hell he did to get me so mad at him. You exist. That’s what you did.

That’s mean. But the voicemail did go something like, “Look I’m racing to work and it’s really hard to get M over there this early so he’s going to go back to bed and I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you come over and get him before practice.” Hmph! And HMPH!

I. Know. The really funny part is the dad has been sooo accommodating lately.

- He called me earlier to tell me he put a photo up online of M in his football helmet and to check it out.

- He texted just now saying, “M fell asleep with his football pants on.” Like, how cute is that, our son?

- He has been telling me what time and dates M has stuff going on at school. Yeah! Right! I wouldn’t believe it either if I wasn’t here typing it!

Nothing you, I or the teen has ever seen, I’m telling you. Speaking of not-often-seen things, I noticed when I got home the kid had taken the trash out. Awww! Unprompted!

Back to the dad. I don’t know if he’s been nice since the wife has been in and out of the state lately and the dad realizes he can’t do it all on his own, a brick fell off a building and bonked him on his head thereby releasing brain cells he’s held in reserve for the past 10 years, or, he’s trying to be nice since he knows R is gone.

See, not only is R a huge help as far as ferrying the kid around but the dad always makes it a point to loooooove the people I’m dating.

In reference to R he usually says things like, “He’s a really nice guy, I don’t know what…” And he trails off. I don’t know what, what? What he’s doing in the same room as you? What I’m doing dating someone normal and you’re so the opposite? Oh! I know, you don’t know what he’s doing with ME. Nice, really nice.

I sound more mad than I am. I had a crappy day at work (training someone when I don’t even know what’s going on half the time myself) and I came home and a wave of depression hit me. Damn hormones.

I mean I have been depressed since R has been gone and the kid starting high school certainly hasn’t helped matters. I hate change. And 2 of the most important people in my life, my family… are moving on to things that don’t really have a whole lot to do with me. Makes me sad.

What can you do, really? Go shopping, that’s what you do. I’ve been doing a lot of damn shopping. Bargain shopping, but, still shopping.

In more uplifting news (other than that retail therapy thing)…

R put money in my account today (1st of the month blues) and I was so happy I texted him and said, “You’re so going to get it when I see you.” Instead of R texting back: “Oh, whatever!” Or a clueless, “Get what?” He texted right back: “When are you coming down?”

I thought for a moment he missed me as much as I miss him and I got all giddy. But, the next text said he’s leaving San Diego soon so I need to come down before he leaves.

Not sure how I’m going to feel when he’s farther away. San Diego isn’t next door but it doesn’t feel that far, compared to other places… let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?

Hey! This part was supposed to be happier: I’m really excited about seeing R. I’m really excited about seeing R, in his dress whites. I’m so excited about seeing R in his dress whites that he ain’t going to be passing any inspections in said dress whites when I’m done with him. August 8th, people. That’s the plan.

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This cup will bring so much joy to your life that I urge you, if you drink tea, to buy one. I’d buy one for R since he loves tea, and we drank tea a lot together. He made it for me, remember? *sniff*

The problem with getting R one? I really don’t think he’s going to be able to use it. He tells me time and again, “Baby, we travel light.” And somehow, I don’t think that means packing a tea brewing cup along with his gun. :) So drink tea for R, people! DRINK IT FOR R! (I’ll send you a $5 off coupon - email me via the contact link if you want one.)

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I haven’t taken my car to get washed in some time because I have a chip in my windshield. If I take the car into get washed, I’m going to be accosted by the glass company people wanting to repair it and I hate people trying to sell me stuff when I’m busy doing something else.

Why car wash places allow glass repair people to sell services and pressure their own customers is beyond me.

See how strongly I feel about people bugging me about the chip in my windshield? When all I really want is the g-ride to be spiffed up?

I noticed on the way home a gas station that had an automatic car wash so I swung on in. I was wearing this skirt and I’m telling you this so you can see that the skirt is light in color, the kicker, it is coming.

I feel fancy when I wear this skirt despite the Cruella de Ville face I’m making in the photo. The skirt has the perfect slit, the ruffles kick and swirl as I walk. You just can’t help but feel fancy in this skirt.

So there I am, feeling quite fancy in my kicky light-colored skirt when I flounce into the mini-mart to pay for my car wash, but not before making a beeline for the cooler to pick up something to drink.

No sooner am I in the front door and walking towards the back when I hear the guy behind the counter call out to me, “Um. Ma’am? Ma’am??”

I think to myself: “Ugh! What NOW?” Like, I really hope this dude is NOT talking to me. Let it be a co-worker, himself, something.

I have to confess that when people call out to me, I never think they’re talking to me. I’ll look around to the next passerby and the caller-outer has to resort to saying things like, “You. Yes, you. The one with the blonde hair, MK bag, light colored kicky skirt, sour expression on your face. YOU. Have something stuck to your ass.”

So he didn’t have to go that far, considering the mini-mart was virtually empty so I quickly (for me) ascertained I had to be the only customer the caller-outer could be calling out. And, he didn’t say ass but he did say something was stuck to my skirt.

I made like a dog chasing it’s tail, turning this way than that way, not able to see anything hanging off my beloved skirt. I finally walk over to the guy so he could just show me when I catch, out of the corner of my eye, something bright red. WTF? Did I start my period?

I reach for the offending object which turns out to be a bright red napkin with a wad of gum encased within, doing a great job adhering the entire mess straight to the middle of my ass. Like a tail. I have a fucking red tail.

I think fast (shut it) and don’t remember any red napkins in my cube, car or anywhere in my vicinity. I further begin to wonder how long I’ve had this red foxtail stuck to my ass. All day? Part of the day? Some of the day? 5 minutes?

I then recall my pregnant co-worker driving me to my car after work. I walk her out because she’s hugely pregnant and I don’t like her wandering out back alone, and I park in front. It had to have been there. I’m so making her pay my dry cleaning bill. Baby wipes be damned.

Moral of the story: Even when you’re feeling sexy, flirty, put together and kicky - look behind you. You just might have something stuck to your ass.