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Facebook Love Connections and Why They Fail

Bird:

Yes. I still got it. :-)

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

So, evidently Facebook changed some stuff up over two years ago, and I just wandered across several messages that have been sitting in there forever, patiently waiting for my attention. Sorry to all my friend who thought I was just ignoring them…I am not too tech-savvy, so changes don’t leap out me very often.

This one message, though, just cracks me up to no end. I think he’s trying to hit on me, but frankly, I am not really sure…

Image representing Facebook as depicted in Cru...

Image via CrunchBase

First, the grammar is lacking. I have said it out-loud a couple of times, and I sound like a gangsta rapper..But second, and far more humorous to me, are the advertisements underneath the guy trying to make a love connection with me…If these aren’t cautionary tales, then nothing is…If these same ads are showing underneath all of this guy’s romantic connections, I’ll bet he isn’t feeling any love these…

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Sight

Bird:

I’m posting one of my daughter’s contributions to Everyone Has A Story…I may be a little biased, but I find it beautiful and real… Bird

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

I love someone who doesn’t see me. In this blog forum, I have shared a bit of my life. Memories, opinions, hopes, all populating paperless pages that float somewhere, barely existent. I now read of other people’s memories, opinions, and hopes, and feel comforted that there is still some attempt at connection. People want to be seen for who they are, not what they seem to be. They reach out, in this vast and busy other-world, to be a part of something. My soul longs for days past, when we would all work together to rebuild a burned down barn, or have pot-lucks in one room wooden churches or town-halls. That world is gone, though, and this is what we now have.

The person I love is part of that busy world. He is, in fact, my opposite in an astounding number of ways. For the record, I don’t want…

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Chef and Bird, Sitting in a Tree..K..I..S..S..I..N..G..

Skull and crossbones

Skull and crossbones (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It has long been a suspicion of mine that Chef and I are a tiny bit too competitive with each other. We can make anything into a competition when we feel like it. Any time we have to take two vehicles somewhere, we race. Yes, irresponsible and dangerous. But fun. Chef having his own blog has been fun, too.

But today, I feel he has taken it a bit far. I woke up with a full-blown case of the flu. I feel awful. I can’t breathe, and I feel like I swallowed a porcupine whole. My body aches, and when I cough, it takes me awhile to be able to stop again. All of this, and yet, Chef showed me no mercy today even though I was in a weakened state, obviously near to death, miserable, grouchy, and in no mood to play stupid games…

He called me from work to check on me.

Me: Hello.

Chef: Hey, Birdie. How are you feeling?

Me: Like death would be an improvement.

Chef: Sorry, kid. Have you eaten anything? You need to eat.

Me: No. Let me starve…

Chef: Well, at least you get to stay in bed and recover. You kept me up all night long hacking and coughing., and I still had to get up and come to work. I can barely function today…

Me: Sorry, honey.

Chef: Seriously, Bird. I am exhausted.

Me: Well, I didn’t do this on purpose…I’m sick! I didn’t plan to keep you up all night. I was dying.

Chef: … I have to stand on my feet all day. We’re short a person around here, and I can’t get anyone in to replace her, so I’m having to do it myself. …You know, Bird, I’m getting the feeling you don’t really care…

Me: (in my most fake sincere voice) Whatever, Don. Fine. I truly apologize. I am really, really sorry I kept you up all night with my several near-death experiences, and it made your day harder…..I mean, seriously, what do you want from me here? You want to win the ‘Who Feels Worse Right Now Award’, ’cause hey, you can have it. You win! I lose! Can I go back to sleep now??

Chef: Yes, I want to win that one, and the I’m Employed and You’re Not one too.

Me: I’m hanging up on you now..You probably had better hope I die….

Chef: I really am sorry you feel like shit. I’ll bring you home some soup…

Me: I hope I’m contagious, and I infect you, then you will die too…preferbly at work…

Chef: I love you, too.

And with that little offering, I’m going to sleep…Have a nice day!

– Bird


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Shit, Is It Easter Already?

Religious symbols from the top nine organised ...

Religious symbols from the top nine organised faiths of the world according to Major world religions From left to right: 1st Row: Christian Cross, Jewish Star of David, Hindu Aumkar 2nd Row: Islamic Star and crescent, Buddhist Wheel of Dharma, Shinto Torii 3rd Row: Sikh Khanda, Bahá'í star, Jain Ahimsa Symbol (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It is Easter weekend. And, as you know, I’m a Christian. Which is why I want to talk today about using bad words. I love profanity, when used in the right context.

Random, right? No. Not really. Let me explain why.

I follow a ton of fellow bloggers, and a good percentage of them are good, Christian people. And Easter is a very important holiday for us. Growing up in church, going to a Christian school, and being raised by a woman hell-bent on going to heaven, I have heard every single variation of the Easter story known to mankind. The only sermon I’ve ever heard my brother preach was the Easter sermon. Yes. I know the story, and I am not disregarding what Jesus did for me on the cross. But I’m not reading too many thoughts about Easter this weekend. In fact, I’m scouring for posts with profanity in them.

I can not stand religious…(not spiritual, mind you)…tradition. I have been an unwilling recipient of religious hypocrisy more than once. I’ve been used and abused by those who would call themselves Christian leaders in the light of the sun, but at night, were nothing more than users, twisting God and His Word into something ugly and warped. Making money and building up their own arrogance by hurting God’s people.

Early on in my life, though, I found that the simplest way to weed out the hypocrites was by using a bad word. It isn’t that real Christians don’t get offended by foul language. Most do. It is because religious people immediately decide you’re a heathen and will ruin their own reputation if they are seen with you. And since I am not interested in the overtly religious Pharasee-like Christian.. (or Mormon, or Muslim, or anything else resembling religion), this works for me.

The real Christians, I find, are more likely to skip over that little shortcoming of mine, refusing to judge my eternal soul based on my inability to control every word coming out of my mouth. And so, I use it as a gauge, if you will.

I imagine Jesus will eventually put His foot down about my sailor-like mouth, but at the moment, know this. As I have yet to achieve Jesus-like perfection, especially in the area of my big, fat mouth, I am not likely to have a problem with what you struggle with.

So, I hope you have a Happy Easter, find eggs, and candy, and all that fun shit

:-) Bird


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Breast Implants & The Sally Jesse Raphael Show

Bird:

How I found my Dad the first time…

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

I have had some pretty weird stuff happen to me, as you can probably tell from prior posts in my blog. Here is yet another one that makes me shake my head in disbelief. Be a fiction writer? I don’t think so. I couldn’t come up with stuff like this if I tried…..

Growing up. my mother hid my brother and me so that our father couldn’t find us. They had battled long and hard in the courts for years. But, at the last-minute, right before I had to march into court and pick which parent I would live with, something happened and my custody was granted to my mother. The story of what a liar I was back then is here. The reprieve saved my sorry little rear-end, but it also metaphorically sealed my father out of my life growing up.

Being an abused kid, I imagine I…

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So, A Child Molester and a Little Kid are Walking into A Forest…

Update: I was confused about why the pope picture kept coming up on my search…I figured WordPress was goofing with me, or misunderstood what my post was all about.  HOURS LATER,  I finally get the Pope picture..I used the words child molester in the title..Sorry! I didn’t do it on purpose..lol. I don’t think all priests are child molesters…..OMG!!

So, I was reading this: Why Do Comedians have A Higher Suicide Rate and it reminded me of a therapist that I once visited.

Unimpressed with my witty diversions in our conversation, she point-blank told me that I

Pope Benedict XVI

Pope Benedict XVI (Photo credit: Wikipedia) -- Evidently, WordPress thinks this pope uses humor to divert..Every time I ran search terms related to my article on humor, comedians, suicide -- this guy's picture showed up in the first frame. LOL...

hide behind my humor. I made some quick-witted retort, and promptly left her office, but I knew she was right. In the past, the more unhappy I am, the more hilarious people around me have thought I was.

What is this phenomenon that causes the broken-hearted men and women of this world try to make others laugh? You got me. I have no idea why. I only know that it is true, because I’ve watched it happen time and again in my own family.

Hands down, my father is the funniest man I know. He sugar coats absolutely nothing, and he is irreverent, crass, bold, and given to the darkest forms of humor I’ve ever known. And believe me when I say, I have laughed at some raunchy stuff. I can’t help myself…I know, I know. Somethings aren’t funny. But in my dad’s world, nothing is off-limits. If you were to look at his life, though, you would think this man should have been living his days in the fetal position in someone’s basement. A physically abused child, he became a criminal before puberty. The one time he tried to change his course in this life, and join the Marines, he was unable to fully assimilate to the life. He married my mom, a beauty queen, who left him high and dry for a guy who made more money. She hid his kids, bankrupted him in court and emotionally as well, and, in my perception, never gave him a second thought. His only son changed his last name to his stepfather’s name, and refuses to this day to even have a conversation with him. All he has is me… (personally, I think he is lucky, because I’m clearly awesome..but who knows?) His life has been filled to the rim with pain and hardship, and yet he makes every one around him laugh, even if it is somewhat nervously. Hands down, he had the hardest life of all of us. Does his pain decide what level his ability to make others laugh is at? I have a feeling that it does.

My brother Mike was raised in the same home as I was, but his journey involved different problems. He is very close-mouthed about our childhood, choosing to focus on his future instead of sorting through his past. Yet, as a fellow survivor of that household, I see the scars on him too. He has built for himself a successful and happy family, and he is a pastor of a pretty impressive church in Colorado. He even wrote a book called How To Knock Over A 7-Eleven and Other Ministry Training. You should read it if you ever get a chance, even if you have no interest whatsoever about churches or church building. The things that have happened to him are hilarious. The guy can tell a really good story. Again, I have to ask, would he be so funny if he had had a Noodle Salad life? Don’t know what a Noodle Salad life is? Read this: Noodle Salad People.

I am told I’m funny too. I have my moments, I guess. The more nervous I am, or the more I am trying to divert your attention away from something I find uncomfortable or painful, I am pretty damn witty. The difference, though, is that I am generally a happy, peaceful person. Yes, I bear the scars of childhood sexual abuse, neglect, and a ton of other painful experiences. But, those scars are healed up, and I find that when I get rolling, I’m genuinely happy to make others laugh, and in turn, I enjoy the happiness I am feeling because they are laughing. When depression rears its ugly head in my life, I generally ride it out by sleeping or coaxing my mind to pursue happier thoughts. I hope that is what Dad and Mike are doing to. Again, same question. Did my past have anything to do with this?

It is an interesting diversion to life’s pain — humor. Does everyone, to some degree, use this tool for coping as well? I’d be really interested in hearing your thoughts on this subject.

– Bird


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In My Quest For Self-Discovery…

So, enough with the heavy stuff. I wrote this piece this morning, but I don’t think it is cheating to use it here too, since I’ve written several things today, and this one is the better of the bunch. So…let’s ride…

Let’s talk about ancestors.

Obviously, we all have some. A friend of mine, about a year ago, set off on a personal quest

Mel Gibson as William Wallace wearing woad.

Mel Gibson as William Wallace wearing woad. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

to trace her lineage as far back as the written records would allow. Each time I would meet up with her, she would fascinate me with some tidbit of history that she’d uncovered in her family tree. Turns out Pocahontas made an appearance in her lineage!! Wow!

I was intrigued, but not enough to pay the $275+ it would take to join Ancestry.com and forge out on my own  path of self-discovery. Besides, even though I had heard my grandmother’s stories of our lineage, I was mildly positive that our ancestors would be boring and uninteresting. I mean, seriously. We can’t all be descended from kings and queens, can we? And I guess I didn’t want the proof that I was sure to find. My family was descended from the apes…ha, ha. Just kidding. Seeing if you were still with me… :-)

About this same time, I began to deal with the relationships in my life, and one that was sorely missing was my father. Without rehashing old history, here is the back-story in a nutshell. My mother divorced my father when I was 6-ish, and then spent my childhood hiding me and my brother from him. I met up with him after seeing him talking to a reporter about my aunt, who was being featured as a guest on the Sally Jesse Raphael Show. I know. I’m going to write that story next, and post it on 20 Lines A Day…It was surreal… But, then lost him again, over the years. Life just got busy, and he fell through the cracks.

So, returning to my story, I set out to find my dad again, and I needed some extra information. My dad is at war with The Man, and as such, he’s lived off the grid for most of his life. So, it took some major detective work on my part to locate him. And one of my tools was Ancestry.com. After I found him, and reconnected, I still had this membership to this genealogical site. And, as I wanted to get my money’s worth, I set out in my quest to find out the truth.

As with all my obsessive tendencies, I became enthralled. Every day, my kids had to hear of some nugget I had discovered, some interesting story of a relative I’d found hidden, and of course, all the famous people we were somewhat connected to. Their reactions were mildly interested, but I could feel their souls rolling their eyes…lol. God bless my long-suffering family!

And, as one will almost always do, I found some historical characters in my lineage. And as life also does, it was a cruel irony.

Mel Gibson‘s Braveheart has long been a favorite in this family. I suspect some of the attraction is that we’re a family of spiritual soldiers, and the entire premise of one man leading a group of people who will not be ruled, in a war against a corrupt, greedy king and his gay son, sparked by the murder of his beloved wife, with the added intrigue of wooing the soon-to-be-queen to fight for his cause — it just was too much to not love.. And every time that movie comes on, someone in this family is watching it. “I love ya…always have..”

But, the one gripe I’ve always had was that Robert the Bruce is a weak, ineffectual weasel of a man, who never seemed to be able to get on the right side of things at the right times. His leprous father had more balls than he did. I was no admirer of how the movie ended, either, with Robert the Bruce giving a luke-warm rally speech to his fellow Scotsmen – “You fought for Wallace. Now, fight for me!” Seriously?? I’ve heard better speeches in board meetings.

So, here’s the irony. Guess which royal lineage I have coursing through my veins. Who is my 26th Great Grandfather? ….Robert the Bruce. And that leprous, leaky old man who was his father? My 27th Great Grandfather. Yep. No William Wallace in this family…

I think I would have been happier to find a monkey…

– Bird


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A Battle-Weary Wife

Bird:

Having a hard day today, and I sincerely wish I could write poetry, because the way I’m feeling, that would have been perfect. Instead, I just wrote about what I’m going through…. Bird

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” C.S. Lewis

I don’t know if there have been truer words spoken about this emotion we call love. As with everything else in my

Women with Broken Heart

Women with Broken Heart (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

life, satan is very good at delivering meaningful, purposeful blows to my life, and he has taken on my marriage recently.

I am no weak person. Through the storms of life, I have been broken and rebuilt…

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I Almost Died Today in the Stupidest Way Ever

Bird:

Due to another traumatic moment in my life involving tweezers and freaking hairs growing rebelliously anywhere they want, without regard for the lives they are destroying, I’m going to repost this from Everyone Has A Story. It is about a trip I took last month. I haven’t re-read it, but I remember liking the Blue Man picture….
I had a bunch of things I wanted to write about today, but my husband ruined it all!

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

So, my adventure managed to end on a really, really bizarre note. We left Austin at 1 pm on Saturday, amid rain, March Madness traffic, and flash floods. Neither my husband nor I had felt all that well that morning, and after standing in a mud bowl during the party, getting sneezed and coughed on, our immune systems just weren’t up to the task. 11 hours later, we had barely made it to the outskirts of Dallas. In an effort to try to save our marriage, he broke down and got us a motel room. It worked. By morning, all was forgiven….until we got on the bike again, in yet another downpour. Grossest feeling ever is having to wear drenched clothes that keep drying out and rewetting over and over again.

Finally, we started hitting some sunshine right outside of OKC. With the sunshine came happier thoughts, and we managed…

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How April Fool’s Day Got Me A Verbal Warning At Work

In honor of it being April Fools Day, I will tell you about one of the practical jokes I played one year.

I worked in an accounting department for a really large oil company, along with almost 30

Keyboard V

Keyboard V (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

other people. We’d recently merged with another company..or was taken over..depended on how you looked at it, and spirits were pretty low as people wondered just how secure their jobs were.

Being a person who enjoys practical jokes, I laid awake half the night trying to figure out a good practical joke to make people laugh, but something that wouldn’t get me in trouble..like before. Yeah. That’s a post for a different day.

Finally, in the middle of the night, I got up to scope the internet to see if I could come up with something. I sat down at the computer…and something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on it…Ah, the keyboard was missing. My cat had knocked it to the side of the desk, and in the dark, I hadn’t seen it. I laughed because it took me a minute or two to figure it out.

The next morning, I went to work TWO hours early, and disconnected every single keyboard in the department and hid them in their file cabinets. All except mine of course. As people trickled in, I sat innocently at my desk typing away. (Trying not to laugh….)

As people noticed, they started chuckling, and then watching as other people came in, to see their reactions. Of course, they knew right away who had done this, because I can’t keep from laughing to save my butt! By the time everyone had been pranked, the atmosphere felt a lot lighter.

And I only got a verbal warning for wasting company time… Win / Win.

Happy April Fools Day!

-Bird


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Money, Money, Money…Money!

Wealth” and a Challenge for the Contributors (and Followers!)
Tell us about wealth. What does it look like? Where should it go? What would you do with a half billion dollars, or any unexpected windfall for that matter?

I love it when I’m challenged to write about something specific. My mind churns out idea

International Money Pile in Cash and Coins

International Money Pile in Cash and Coins (Photo credit: epSos.de)

after idea after idea until I’m exhausted before I even pick up my laptop. So, when this challenge was presented, I felt some relief!

And then I thought about it over and over and over, and I was exhausted all over again!

Money. All of us poor people have heard that it won’t make you happy. And all of us poor people would like the opportunity to learn that lesson through experience, if you don’t mind!

If you’ve read anything about me before, you know that my eldest daughter was born out-of-wedlock. I didn’t bother putting a father on her birth certificate, because I didn’t intend for that man to be in her life at all. He had campaigned enthusiastically for me to get an abortion, and if I didn’t, he would just take her from me and disappear into Mexico. I was 19, alone, and quite frankly, freaked out by his reaction. So, my answer was to make it almost legally impossible to fight me for her, as well as putting hundreds of miles between us. Rebekkah was mine….. And, as government tends to do, the State of Texas stuck it’s big, fat nose into my business, and put the man right back into my life, in the form of Child Support.

My second baby, DJ, was a harrowing pregnancy. Over and over, it would seem that my body was trying to miscarry, and yet my little baby would hang on. Finally, just short of two months early, my son had to be delivered…He was a month old before he could leave the hospital.

The medical bills were as so high, I stopped opening the bills. What can you do when your husband makes a total of $20,000 a year, and the hospital is demanding $82,000 for the birth of your son? Finally, the hospital told me about this magical thing called Medicaid, and they walked me through the process, and the bill simply went away. Breathtaking!

Enter The State of Texas. Because I had used public assistance, the state now had the right to try to recoup some of the money they had spent on me. Well, duh. That makes sense now, but back then, it was never mentioned. And because I had a daughter already from someone I wasn’t married to, they saw the opportunity to collect some money from the biological father.

Let’s say that I was not all that forthcoming with information about Rebekkah’s father. The information I gave them was his name. That is all. And I’ll be damned if that state didn’t find him anyways. They ordered a paternity test, and the dominoes fell from there. Long story short, The Father made a pretty decent living, and the courts ordered him to pay me a nice amount each month, as well as owing me for the six years of Bek’s life, to the tune of $54,000.

Fast forward years later. Bekkie is half way through high school, and all that legal mumbo jumbo has been a thing of the past for a decade. I sit unsuspectingly at my computer to check bank balances and pay a few bills.

Boom! There is a really large amount of money in a bank account that barely makes it through the month. I was stunned. Actually, it made me feel a little afraid.

Before I told anyone about it, I immediately called to make sure it wasn’t an accident. I was  informed that The Father had been hiding money away in an account under his wife’s name and they had found, and seized it. And the money was mine. Oh.My.God.

And then the roller coaster ride really began. First, all those tiny voices in my head that whisper their worry about paying bills and still having enough money to make it to the next payday, went silent.

Second, for the first time in my life, I wanted to Protect my Money. I almost immediately became somewhat suspicious. And to some degree, with good reason. It wasn’t the Mega Lottery, but it was more than the rest of my extended family had, and after years and years of silence, suddenly there were family members that wanted to “re-connect”. And because back then I was somewhat naive, I believed that I could buy them all back. Oh please…It was like feeding a stray animal. They always came back for more, and when it was finally gone, they disappeared again. My husband and I argued over how to spend it, always afraid that we might end up spending it all. The kids wanted more and more things that their friends had…It felt great and horrible all at the same time. It seemed like money was all I could think about anymore, and it just felt wrong.

No. I didn’t invest it. My family and I gave a bunch of it away, bought things that people would normally have to buy on credit, shopped for things we wanted, and paid bills. And then it was gone. Along with that suspicious, creepy entitled feeling that had arrived with it. When the last dime of it had been spent, I felt relief. The users in my life went away, and the real friends that had always been my friends before, stayed. No more arguments with my husband over money. My kids settled back into being careful when picking what they really wanted.

My life had returned to normal, where I had to truly appreciate the paychecks that I was earning. I had to be careful to decide what we really needed as opposed to what we only wanted. In essence, we got our character back.

I don’t play the lottery, nor do I find millions and millions of dollars enticing. Since that first time, I’ve come into really large chunks of money from time to time, and I am pleased to say that I’ve gotten better at dealing with this odd turn of fortune. But I always remember that first experience, and I rely on the lessons I learned from it.

Money not only can’t buy you happiness; It can steal the happiness you already have. It can make you into a person you don’t even like yourself. It can become a god; more important than love, family, friendship, and God…It is wonderful and horrible all at the same time.

And we always think we are the ones that can tame that storm… ;-)

lol..and I know not one person who reads this would pass up the chance to learn this lesson themselves!!

– Bird


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Conversations With My Dad

These are some stories my Dad told me. I get a kick out of the way he tells a story. In fact, most of the people in my family can tell a good story. There’s always an underlying competition going to “out-storytell” each other. Dad is still winning –

Here’s some of my Dad’s recent offerings to me….

Abusive Employers:

After describing to my dad how my employer would lose his temper on me, then say not to take it personally–

Dad: Your grandpa Eddie told me this story once. One of the ole guys he got hired by told

Me and my Dad

him, ‘ Now, sometimes I lose my temper and I’ll cuss ya, but don’t take it personally. I don’t mean nothin’ by it.

And your grandpa told him, ‘ That’s okay. Sometimes when people cuss me, I break my foot off in their a**. But don’t take it personally. I don’t mean nothin’ by it either.’

The Debt:

Bobby was just one of those friends that gets away with s*** that I would beat anyone else’s a** over. Once I heard he was over somewhere gambling, and I headed over there to collect some of the $400 he owed me. When I left, he owed me another $20.

He got himself this motorcycle, and he came over to my house, and asked if I had a wheel, ’cause his back wheel needed replacing. I had all the motorcycle parts, so I said sure. We went out together and I took this wheel off this old bike of mine. He didn’t have any money, so I just let him have it.

The next day he came over and asked me how much for the whole bike. I said, “Well, how much you wanna pay?” He said, ” Well, it ain’t worth much without that wheel.”

Describing my grandmother’s side of the family:

The Kings were a dangerous lot. They’d cut your throat and tell God you died.

Chatter Box Daughter:

When you were little…about two or three, I’d say, I came home, and your mom was just tired. You’d talked her ears off all day. So, I said to myself, I’m just going to let her talk until she wears herself out. I said to you, “Cathie, come here. We’re gonna talk.”

A long time later, you were still going. I thought to myself, ” If I cover her mouth, her little rearend will blow right off.”

Handling Conflict:

Well, you know I didn’t get to spend much time with Michael. By the time I got to see him again, he’d forgotten who I was. Broke my heart.

He was pretty little, running around outside playing with some kids. He comes running in and says, ‘Dad, those kids took my ball away!’

I told him, ” You’re gonna be a man, someday. Go be a man and take it back from them.” I went to the window to watch him, in case those kids tried to hit him or something.

He ran outside and says in a loud voice, “That’s okay. Dad called the cops.” The little a**h*** kid that took Mike’s ball away threw it back at him, and ran away. Mike just kept on playing.”

I thought, “The kid is smarter than me…”

Our 2nd or 3rd Cousin Eddie - (This one is my favorite…)

Dad: Everbody’s got a story, Cathie. We have this cousin Eddie who had a mother who wasn’t going to settle for just one guy — she’s was tryin’ them all out first. She was hooked on dope, so the state gave her kids to her father. He wasn’t much better, but at least they ate. I think….

Anyways, he got money from the state for taking care of them. One day the mother showed up needing some money, and her dad wouldn’t give her any so she threaten to kill Eddie, and hit him in the head with a bottle. It didn’t kill him or nothin’, but it showed him where his place was in this world.

Eddie was a tough m****f****. Later, when he was twelve, he was hanging in a bar with his mom and one of his stepfathers. The sorry man started threatening Eddie, saying he was going to take him outside and beat his a**. Eddie told him, come on, I’m ready for you. Come outside and beat my a**. So, while the old guy swallowed the last of his beer, Eddie went on outside to wait for his a** kickin’. When ole boy walked out, Eddie hit him in the head with a two-by-four. Put him right in the hospital. Yeah, he was one tough little kid.

Me: This is a horrible story. These are our relatives, Dad??

Dad: No. But I wish they were.

Good parenting:

I don’t know if I would have been a good parent, Cathie. I just know I would have tried real hard.

 


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How To Win Friends, And Influence People

facebook

facebook (Photo credit: sitmonkeysupreme)

Over the past few years, I’ve found that a large number of the people I know have found Mr./Mrs. Right through MySpace and Facebook. After some cyber dating, one of them will uproot themselves, and in some cases, their families, and move hundreds of miles to move in with their Facebook friend.

Shockingly, the relationships go sour really fast. Feelings get hurt, things are said, and the whole house of cards spirals to the ground.

And just as alarming to me is their desire to ask ME what I thought had gone wrong.

I have worked a really long time to tone down my Blunt Gene, but I am still only human. I hate it when they set themselves up so perfectly….

Finally, I figured out an answer that I think says it all, while not sending people into pits of self-hatred, and still allows me to sit at the cool table.

“Because you both still believe in Santa Claus.”

Most of us humans usually know what the honest answers are to our questions. We just tend to poll our friendships looking for one answer that makes us feel better about our dumb mistakes.


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How I Was Schooled Tonight by A Snarky Bus Driver

Bird:

Due to being traumatized this morning by a Snarky Bus Driver, I’m sticking with one story for both sites. I need to spend some time rebuilding my self-esteem… ;-) — Bird

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

bus of the undead hdr

bus of the undead hdr (Photo credit: eschipul)

This bus looked better, and frankly, happier than the ones I saw tonight.

I just spent the last two hours at the downtown Tulsa bus station. My, how the mighty have fallen!!

When I was about 9, my stepfather, who was a school teacher/coach would drive buses for the summer, and we’d all pack up like we were going on vacation and ride with him all over the United States. I was always excited when we would first start off, and then within an hour, I was ready to be finished with the trip….Boring!…. Mom always made me take several books, knowing I was going to have to keep busy or my brain would melt. Smart woman.

Buses back then were newer, and the fact that you could use the bathroom at the back…

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Losing My Mind, One Cat-Shaped Piece At A Time

I’ve had a very stressful night. First, even Ambien couldn’t knock me out, so I was up all night. Then, at about 4 am, I heard a cat crying outside, and lo and behold! my strictly in-doors cats, bought for me to help with Empty Nest issues,  had escaped the house through the dryer vent hole!! Little Jerks.

I was able to catch one of them, Milo,  quickly, but the other was nowhere to be found.

Sebastian. Not caring at all about how worried I was. Schmuck.

Yes, I wandered through the dark looking for him in a robe and slippers like a weird woman acting in some bad commercial. Little jerk was mocking me…I can feel it. After 3 hours — 3! – Sebastian decided to wander his little butt home, thus ending my nightmarish worry.

As I was sitting here, relief washing all over me that both of them were safe and sound in the house again, it occurred to me that I’ve just freaked out over two house cats. I don’t freak out over house cats.

Milo. Not the Brave One, thank God.

Tomorrow, my son is heading to Texas to see if this is a move he wants to make. With my youngest in Japan, that leaves only one of my chicks here near me. I think that’s why I was flipping over my cats. They’ve come to represent my children in some weird way….. Which I’m wondering if that might be a bit much, even for me. I mean, if they keep doing stuff like this, will I potentially lose my mind??

I need a nap. Exhaustion is shading this way too heavy for me right now.

– Bird

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