FTSF: Valentine's Day (or, How To Keep The Local Florist In Business)

Here we go again! 

 Deja Vu!  

(Or, is that JaVu De
 ... or VuDe Ja?)  

No matter, it's 

Finish The Sentence Friday!   

Why do I expect bands to be playing and crowds roaring when I type that?  It never happens, yet I'm constantly awaiting the day it does.   

I guess I've just got nothing better to do.  That's kind of sad if you think about it.  

To be awaiting something that will never take place is a complete waste of "wait" time.  I mean, don't we spend enough time waiting on stoplights to change?  At least they'll change sooner or later.  

And, how about waiting in line at the grocery store?  Don't we waste enough time doing that?   We stand there, waiting on the lady that waits until the cashier finishes ringing up the order to pull out her check book.  Then, we wait while the cashier finds a pen for her.  Then, we wait while she tries to figure out the date.  Then, we wait while she fishes in her vast cavity of a purse for a driver's license.   Of course, after she finally finishes writing and validating, we have to wait for her to put everything back into this vast bottomless pit she carries.  But, at least when it is all said and done, we get to the cashier and have our turn.

So, waiting for something that will never happen seems so pointless.  It's like waiting on your kids to do everything right for a week.  It will never happen! Still, we waste time thinking that by some miracle, it will.   Yet, like the band playing and the crowd roaring, kids doing everything right for a week is just another example of false hopes and dreams being dashed to little tiny bits and pieces ... and some slivers that will snag the bottoms of your feet if you walk barefoot.

Just call me Mr. Positive today!   "Hey Scrooge, need some company?"

As I started to say earlier, today is Finish The Sentence Friday!  (still no band or crowd)  This is the day in which we experiment with our common sense to decide if we are ever going to have enough intelligence to keep quiet about ourselves, or, continue to provide tidbits of our past for the ridicule and sadistic enjoyment of others.   In other words, "Let's hear the smut!"

Today, the sentence we are to finish is:

 "The most-memorable Valentine’s Day 

I ever had was…”

As always, the gracious hosts of this are:

Janine at "Janine's Confessions Of A Mommyholic"

Kate of "Kate's Can I Get Another Bottle Of Whine"

Stephanie from "Stephanie's Mommy For Real"

Dawn from "Dawn's Disaster"

So, in charge of this hub hop we have an addict, a bottle fetish'er, a real mommy (vs. a fake one), and a disaster.   And you thought I was the only negative thinker here!   lol

Moving right along ... slowly ... let's get back to the topic at hand.

"The most memorable Valentine's Day I ever had was ... 

I wish I could tell you!   

What?  Rich is stumped?  Is he hiding something?

C'mon, you know better than that!

Lets look at a few things.  Men and women have a few differences in the way they think.  Women remember the things that make their hearts go thumpa thumpa thumpa.  Guys don't.  They remember basketballs going bounce-a bounce-a bounce-a.  It's really quite that simple.

I'm not a member of today's society.  I come from the past.  No, I'm not talking reincarnated, (although I do shoot a pistol better from the hip than in a rigid stance, which makes me wonder about having been a gunslinger in a previous life) but from a time of Black and White movies.

Today's society thinks it odd to treat a woman as something special.  It's something you only do on Valentine's Day, an anniversary, or when you really want to have a romantic evening (before the popcorn and ESPN).  

However, I've always done my best to mimic the actions of the charmers of the Silver Screen. (Bogey, Gable, Sinatra, Groucho)

1. I hold out a chair for my wife (to keep her from missing it and ending up on her butt on the floor), 
2. open and close her car door for her (since she can't close a damn door right), 
3. ask her if I can get her anything when I go to the kitchen for refreshments (since she's getting too big to get up without straining and groaning), 
4. and help her on with her coat (that gets larger every year).  
5. I walk closest to the curb (in case she gets mad and throws something at me), 
6. hold the door open for her to enter first (in case someone is shooting inside), 
7. and always order for her (in case the waiter has something to do instead of waiting three hours for her to make up her mind).

Seriously, I don't need a special day to show my wife love.  I'd rather surprise her on just any old day!  First, I do a little shopping for her.  Then, after she goes to bed, I hang up a couple of tops, set out some perfume, and position one red rose in a vase all next to the coffee pot in the kitchen.  That way, when she gets up, it's suddenly a special day for her.  She seems to like it.

Or, I'll surprise her by having cooked a quality meal when she gets home from work.  I'll sometimes do the dishes (she's left from the night before and her breakfast) so she can relax a bit.  And, I've even done the red checked tablecloth and candle for a meal in the back yard under the stars.  However, I learned my lesson and will no longer attempt to bake pastries!  lol  

I think the most important thing I do is to always make her smile before she goes to bed.  With different schedules, she's always turning in earlier than I.  But, regardless of what the day brought, I will do whatever I have to do to make her smile.  It may be making up a weird song or rap, mimicking her actions, a joke or two, or even some teasing and pinching.  But, whatever it takes, I make her smile.  

As we've grown together over the years, I seem to love her more and more every day.  So, who needs Valentine's Day to show love?  Why cherish only one day when it can be experienced 365 days a year.

Especially now that the hot flashes and temper tantrums are over with!

How To Rid Yourself Of Unwanted Children

"It's my job to ruin your life.
That's why I was born!"

***Disclaimer:
   This blog article in NO WAY is to be taken as a directional guide, nor have any of it's suggestions utilized by anyone of sound or unsound mind.  Of course, to take these suggestions under consideration only indicates that you are of unsound mind, and need to seek immediate mental health assistance from a qualified professional psychiatrist, known crudely as a"head shrinker".  This, in NO WAY means for you to seek out adventure and journey to the deep, dark depths of the most hidden jungle to find someone to shrink your head.  That is a lost art. Even though your brain may still easily fit within the shrunken skull, you would find many using it as either a designer hat rack or a horseshoe tossing post.  

The author takes absolutely 

NO RESPONSIBILITY 

should you use any of these ideas.  

   Please, use this blog offering only as it is intended ... to laugh, shake your head in disbelief of how far over the line it travels, analyze your actions and see if they could be misconstrued as applicable to this topic, and to waste valuable time in which you could be writing your own blog!  The management sincerely thanks you for your understanding, and reminds you to not stick unwanted used pieces of chewing gum to the chair bottom when you are finished. ***

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

So, things didn't work out the way you planned, did they?  

"Damn right I'm gonna cry!
Give me your boob 
and I'll shut up!"

Well, you got pregnant when you were only thirteen, and now that you're fifteen. you're tired of having to deal with a crying one year old that a sock in the mouth won't shut up!   How can you plan to go out on dates and enjoy your childhood when you've got to deal with a screaming, whining baby every night?   Geesh, the damn thing doesn't even care if you get your beauty sleep or not!!  Plus, your mother is saying, "You deal with it!  I had to deal with you!"    She's no help at all!

Or, you married your teenage sweetheart, who turned out to be the ass your parents told you he was.  Just had to have a couple of kids to try to keep the marriage together, didn't you?  Well, now, he's gone and the little boogers are crimping your dating life!  Hell, they even caused you to break a nail and drop one of your earphones in a pile of greenish brown crap while changing diapers yesterday!   That's going just TOO FAR!!!


Maybe you decided that you wanted bigger boobs.  So, instead of paying the $5000 for an operation, you decided to go the Redneck route to boob enlargement and found that getting pregnant was a natural way to increase their size.  You just didn't realize that along with the size came a 10 pound infant that wanted to be permanently attached to them.  Now, you have no room for your boyfriend to munch, and when he does, he's getting more than what he bargained for!  Plus, your hips have separated and you're now as wide as an eighteen wheeler!

So, what do you do?

Get rid of them!   It's simple and it's easy!   All you have to do is to follow the program and before you know it, you'll be free of stinking, dirty diapers, sniffling noses that never stop running, and nights filled with howls and screeches from Hell!!  

Here's the way to financial and personal freedom and a much happier life!

Fun time!
Excuses 'R Us!!!

First things first!  Go to the best prescription providing physician (the one you always visited for legally  controlled drugs before you gave birth) and get prescriptions for depression, severe pain, and four hour erections.  

The depression and pain pills will give you a valid excuse for misplacing or losing your kid(s) should a court appearance be necessary.  At worst, if found guilty, you can sue the drug companies and have a nice nest egg to enjoy upon your release.  

The four hour erection pills are to strictly demonstrate the doctor was a complete quack, to help you with your defense, again, should you end up in court.  (After the case is closed, just give them to your single uncle to enjoy.)

Next, if you're still in high school, quit immediately after beginning to take the pills.  This will demonstrate a chemical imbalance that created a mental disorder that brought on a lack of responsible attitude (as if you ever had one to begin with).  This will usually allow for a certain amount of "pity" votes from the jury, again, should you end up in court.

Now, all you have to do is to is plan on a way to dispose of the millstones around your neck.  Drowning in a bathtub and/or sending them into a lake in a running car has already been tried with prison as a result.  Also, stay away from dumpsters and garbage cans as courtroom juries have no mercy upon those who use them for this purpose.  Remember, there are cameras everywhere these days, so you're going to have to be careful.  It is of the essence to utilize a location that will provide you with the best chance of getting away, as well as the best legal excuse.

Therefore, any of the following steps may work for you on the first attempt, so choose wisely.  To avoid legal problems, you might want to incorporate two or more of these steps into your plan of action.  This will ensure complete success! 

"Thanks for advertising!
Tell all your friends to do the same!
I can sell all you can provide!"

1)  The best way to "lose" the kid(s) is to advertise!  No, damn it, I'm not talking about taking out an ad in the local newspaper.  That costs money you'll need to enjoy life once you're free again!

Instead, advertise on the web!  Facebook provides you an effective forum to display a beautiful catalog of pictures of those of whom you wish to no longer have around.  

Increase your odds of success and present all the perverts of the world with family photos of the darling youngster(s) to drool over. In addition, provide information as to where and when you shop, how you constantly get mad at yourself for leaving them unguarded in shopping carts and unlocked cars, and kindergarten and school names for easy access.  Don't forget to include a full schedule of days and times, and a complete description of your car or van, including the license plate number.

*For Google purposes, be sure to include the following paragraph:*

"I sure hope that nothing happens to my kid(s).  I'm afraid a Black Market Seller, Deranged Kidnapper, or Sexual Pervert will take my kid(s), as I am constantly leaving them unsupervised due to my new found dependency on drugs.  I've even found myself falling to sleep on my sofa at (Home Address) every afternoon with the doors unlocked because of how sleepy they make me.  I'm sure they would be such an Easy Target for such people.  If anything ever happened to the kid(s), I'd be too afraid to contact the authorities for fear they'd imprison me for neglect."

I guarantee this one will work!  Why, just look at all the people doing it on Facebook, as well as in blogs!  They're advertising in hopes of a peaceful return to the life they once loved.  

You Can Too!!!

2)  Hiking trips also provide many excuses to "lose" your children.  "I was lost and put the baby down while it was crying to give me a reference point to which to return after finding the trail back to civilization" will usually provide the authorities with a reason to let you go (especially if you're blonde).  

"Sure I eat in the woods.  I crap there, too!  
If you're gonna blame me,
at least leave me some crumbs for a last meal!"

If you are a redhead or brunette, you can always use, "I thought I was going to be attacked by a wild animal, so I put the baby down to hide it from the jaws of the wild beast!  Then I ran away to draw the beast away!  Then, I couldn't remember where I'd left it!"  

You may even be looked at as a hero as hunters go on a shooting spree and kill lions and tigers and bears, oh my!   

If you have black hair, simply start speaking broken English  (Bambino?  Mi?  Non Com-pren-di?), enjoy a free trip to Mexico via The Department of Immigration, partake of some authentic Mexican tacos, and have your mother send you your driver's license so you can come back legally to a life you desire! 

If you've shaved your head, simply tell the authorities that aliens whisked your baby away after providing you a full anal probe (that you thoroughly enjoyed), and you have no idea what happened next.  You'll spend a couple of months resting, listening to Sinead O'Connor oldies on your I-Pod, and enjoying asylum medications before you'll be free to enjoy life!

"I betcha that one's gonna drop her kid!"
"No, in fact, I'll bet five delicious fingers
 it's the one over there!"

3)  Zoos are another great place to "lose" a child.  There are so many benches where one could rest a few minutes, and then be confused upon waking (because of the drugs ... *see above) that they could completely forget they ever had a child there.  And, with all the racket being made by the elephants and lions and monkeys, it will take hours for the baby to be discovered!  Getaways can be completed without worry!

Also, you can try holding the baby carrier loosely on a cage ledge. This could allow the unsecured infant the opportunity to see the insides of a wild animal up close and personal.  Since you don't care how you get free of your responsibilities, this one might even allow you to be viewed as the grieving mother that reached for a falling bottle and lost the baby as it slid into the pit.  Therefore, you might even find yourself glowing in national news coverage, and provided with name recognition for those future date partners! 

"So, are they good voices,
    or, are they bad voices?"

4)  As a last resort, you could call Child Services and let them have the kids.  Simply state that you are having extremely bad visions of demons ravaging your body endlessly and hearing profane voices whispering in your head.  Also state that you want to play "Kick The Baby" as shown often on South Park!  Even the most ignorant of government employees (easily found) would find it necessary to remove the children from your care.  (Unless they start agreeing that they've been experiencing the same things!)

If you do come upon one that's still too stupid to take the kid(s), add a quick impression of Linda Blair's performance in The Exorcist, by rotating your head around 360 degrees, and puking green pea soup all over their uniform.  If they still don't take the little monster, at least you've had a good time getting them to think about it!

*          *          *          *          *           *          *

See, getting rid of unwanted children really isn't that hard to do!   You just have to have a plan of action, follow a preset course, and be a good actor when pleading with authorities.  Get rid of your unwanted baggage and enjoy the life you truly deserve!

Just remember, your actions are completely valid because ...

You really weren't fit to be a mother in the first place! 

  

In fact, 

You Suck!

*Okay, I realize this post was a little over the line, but folks, we gotta protect the kids.  For other blogs on this topic, please visit the new posts on:

Terrye at The Misadventures of a Misplaced Alaskan
and
Michelle at Muses From The Deep

Gabriela's "Mommy Blog Monday"

Hi y'all!   It's me again!

Hello! Hello!

The girl of girls, 

the furry fan 

 of fabulous friends,

the magical mommy 

of mommies,

the demonic cat 

of Kentucky Flatt,

yes, ladies,

I have returned!!!

Gabriela's In The House!!!

(Boom Shaka Laka,  Boom Shaka Laka!)

I knew I'd get my way and get my own day to blog if I created a big enough fit over it!  Rich has agreed to let me have my day!  

Of course, I had to threaten him a little.  

We argued about it some, but he finally saw my side of the story when I asked him (while I was sharpening my claws) if he'd like to wake up one morning with the same abilities to please a woman that Faletame has!   

I said, 

"Richiepoo, I ain't no vet, 

but I can say I surely bet, 

my claws can make a difference, in the way you set ... down!"   

Girls, he quickly saw it my way!  lol  Just remember, to properly inspire, you gotta show some fire!

So, now I got my day to blog.  I just gotta figure out something to talk about!  Like that's ever been a problem for me.

Being a mommy, I guess I can talk about mommies.  I can hear y'all's knees knockin' now!  

"Oh, Gabriela ... be gentle!  You know we love our kids and husband with all our lives!  We'd do anything to make them happy!  We always try to show love and affection!"

Who do you think y'all are talkin' to, girls?  Y'all just like me ... as long as you're in control, you're the baddest bitch on the block!  Then, when something goes too far, you just say, "What have I got myself into", start blamin' someone else, say the hell with the diet, eat a half gallon of Cookies 'N Cream ice cream, and then call your cryin' buddy and let out all your guilty feelin's about how you should be appreciated more!

Ladies, that's what we do!  Be loud and be proud!

I remember my six kids!  In fact, I think of them all the time ... and am happy to have them out of my life!  Oh chill now, I'm just jokin'!  I loved them, for about five minutes after they was born.  Then, girls, they started feedin' on me.  

OH....MY....GOD...!!!!      The little suckers had teeth!!!

Y'all's kids don't get teeth till they're done feedin' on you.  Mine were born with them!  Big long fangs that would dig way down to your back bone and scrap the fleas off the vertebrae!  

You know how it feels when your boyfriend,  oops, hubby are in that sexy lovin' mood and he starts goin' a little crazy on you and bites down when he shouldn't???  (Yeah, we know where to get them back for that ... don't we girls?)

But, imagine, six of those darling dears bitin' you at once!    I swear, I just about decided immediately that all of them were gonna go on a starvation diet right out of the pod!  

But, it's all about a mother's love.  I laid there, day after day, as my six little, lovin' babies sucked in their breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Six furry frocks of feedin' frenzy ... just going to town on all I had to offer.

I'd always heard that a mother's love was unconditional.  If I'd have known about the bitin' condition, I might have thought twice about gettin' conditionally pregnant!  

However, as a lovin' mother, I had just one thought, 

"When the hell y'all gonna start eatin' solid food?"

Well, they got older real fast.  And before you know it, they're gone!  I really miss them sometimes.  They don't even write!  It's kind of like, "Gee Mom, thanks for the food.  Gotta go!  Maybe see you around!"

Ain't that the fate we have, ladies?  We're used by men, used by kids, and then expected to be the lovin', sweet, devoted creatures we portray ourselves to be.  

Gets cha all mushy inside.  Kind of makes you want to start drinkin'... again!   Least, that's my excuse!  lol

Anyway, I guess the moral of this blog is, 

"Love and enjoy y'all's kids and husband as long as they're around.  

Almost nothin' lasts forever, and along with the good, comes some pain!  

Plus, there's always wine for the whine!  

So, open that sucker up!"

          *          *          *          *          *          *           *           *          *          *          *

***If  y'all want, I'll be back next Monday.  I'm thinkin' about talkin' about the subject "Men-O-Pause!"  Remember, Rich will only let me come back if you comment favorably!  Let him know what you think below!

Later!

Now, if you don't mind, I've gotta get my beauty sleep!
Writing a blog is a lot of work!

FTSF - Reality TV and Me

Well, here we are again!   

Finish the sentence Friday is here.  I'd thought about skipping this one and really taking a day off.  But, since the only blog posted on my site this week came from my cat, Gabriela, I have to remember my obligations.  So, let me get to it!   

Let it be kept in mind that I'm watching the final "Resident Evil" movie "Retribution" while I'm attempting to accomplish this.  So, if I seem somewhat spaced out at times, you'll know it's because I'm staring at and dreaming of a magnificent fantasy that includes myself and Milla Jovovich!    

You see, Milla and I have had a long relationship.  She represents everything I'd want in a woman.  Not only can she kick anyone's ass that decided to make fun of my writing, but she'd look great doing it!   And yes, I recognize that I have nothing to offer her, and really can't even tell you a thing about her personal life.  Still, we must enjoy fantasies wherever we can find them.   

Even my cat Faletame is stroking his whiskers and giving me a high five on this one!

Gabriela's saying, "Hey Faletame, thanks to the vet, you couldn't do anything with her if you wanted!"

What a bitch!

Oh, yes, it's finish the sentence Friday!   I had been slightly detracted, thinking about Milla.   Sweet Milla!   Such a lean, mean, fighting machine that looks so good in spandex and latex.  I mean, there's really not that many ladies that look good holding a gun!  But with Milla, it looks so natural.

Finish the Sentence Friday, Rich ... Finish the Sentence Friday ....

This week, the zookeepers are again:

Janine from Janine's Confessions of a Mommyholic

Kate From Kate's Can I Get Another Bottle Of Whine

Stephanie from Stephanie's Mommy For Real

Dawn From Dawn's Disaster

They have put their heads together to come up with another stirring question guaranteed to reach new depths of septic tank sludge in requiring answers from all of those daring enough to participate.  

So, without further ado, let us see the sentence we are supposed to finish .....

If Milla Jovovich were to ask you or your husband out on a ..........

Sorry, wrong sentence.    Here's the real one:

“When it comes to reality TV shows, I…”

So, here I go...

When it comes to reality TV shows, I could make the journeys through them with Milla Jovovich by my side.

Together, we could use the method of body warming body as we traveled the frozen North in the land of Ice Road Truckers!  I'm sure we'd be in constant danger of melting the ice over which we drove our eighteen wheeler, yet, the crackling of the ice would only heighten the intensity of the drama shown on the screen.

Milla and I could show up the Gator Boys and catch a 20 foot gator by simply mesmerizing it with her beauty as I slipped up behind it and taped its jaws shut.  Then, together, we'd laugh and laugh as it wore itself out thrashing its tail around in anger at not being able to taste her flesh.

We'd travel to Texas and show the Rattlesnake Republic how to draw out the snakes by simply having Milla sing lightly as she trod through snake country.  Like the Pied Piper, she'd lead them to the boxes I'd prepared, into which they'd crawl to simply cool off from the heat she projected.

To the Amazon Jungle we'd go next.  The boys from Alabama, looking for gold, would find a new meaning to the title "Bamazon" upon seeing her in the tiny jungle garb she chose to wear.  So enthralled they'd be that they would never see me slipping all the gold they'd collected into my own backpack.  By the time they stopped thinking of the image of Milla, we'd be far away and safely enjoying the profits of the trip along the beaches of Rio!

Together, her and I could travel to Vegas and visit the Pawn Stars shop.  There, I'd wager with Chumley as to his ability to get Milla to go on a date with him.  After he lost, I'd take the Picasso and the two man helicopter and Milla and I would fly to the land of Anthony Boudain's five star restaurant selections in New York City!  Among the lights, we'd dine on the finest of delicacies, ending of course, with the one strand of spaghetti that drew our lips together.   (Remember the Lady And The Tramp?)

However, as with all reality TV shows, seasons end and shows are cancelled.  I'd finally remember that I was married and have to give up my dreams of Milla being forever in my life.  She, of course, would be completely heartbroken, and sue me for a nominal sum on the People's Court.  As a penalty for my discretion's, I'd be sent, along with eight high school kids, to a session of Scared Straight, where prison occupants would threaten to maim, injure, and even kill me if they ever saw me again.  

When it was over, my wife would come and pick me up, and tell me she'd scheduled appearances on both the Dr. Phil show and Jerry Springer to see if help was available for what I'd done.  Before I could appear, the stress would get to me, I'd have a fatal heart attack, and Ghost Hunters would come to Kentucky to spend the night in my house talking to my spirit.  They'd record an unknown voice, that when presented to my wife the next day, would draw screams of anger, as she listened to it say,

"Milla ... Milla ... Milla ...   You're one hot lady!"

Now, I'm getting back to watching the movie!   

Thank God for Blue Rays!!!

Gabriela Speaks .... Again!

Hey Ladies!   It's Me, Gabriela!
Can we talk?

Okay, Rich is tired and worn out.  He's worked seven days straight and still has one to go before he gets a day off!  

At least, that's what he's telling me to say.  Actually, he's watching a basketball game.  Yeah, he's an ass at times!  Whenever college basketball season comes around, Faletame tells me Rich forgets about everything else and cements his big butt in front of his 50" television.  

I've never actually written a blog before.  Oh, I had that "Demon Cat" series that Rich has attached to his blog above, but that's in the past.  Besides, I might have pulled his leg a little on that one.  Tee hee hee!   Rich is so damn gullible at times!

So, I'm here ... and I know that most of you write "Mommy Blogs!"  Well guess what?  

I'm a mommy!!!!

So, I'm gonna fit right in here.  And Janine, you've got nothing on me, girl.  You want to complain all the time about not being able to crap in peace with only two young ones.  Hell, I had six of them clinging to my nipples at one time!   You want to talk about trying to take a crap in peace!  Girl, only having two of them young furry pests hanging around would have been a dream!

And ladies, I didn't even have a man around to help me!  No, he got his jollies off and then left!  No good bastard!   Left me before I'd even had a chance to enjoy it!   At least, I think he was the one.  When we cats go into heat, who keeps track!   It's what we like to call a real "block party!"  You all should try it some time!

But, there I was.  Before you knew it, I was bloated up like a dead armadillo in the middle of the road.  I waddled around the neighborhood, trying to find someone to take pity on me and give me a place to live.  Damn humans, sometimes they're so superstitious about black cats anyway!  Racist pigs!

Well, I found this old woodshed behind a house and set up housekeeping.  I could grab a mouse every now and then, but water was a little hard to come by.  No, I didn't get to enjoy all the pickles and ice cream and bananas and peanut butter you guys stuffed yourself on during your pregnancy periods!   I was lucky to find a mouse that hadn't eaten half a box of D-Con!  Girls, you don't know what rough is!

One morning, out they came!  

Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop!   

Yep, half a dozen ... one after the other.  Just imagine giving birth to six at once!   And you think you were sore!  It was like someone had given me a 64 oz. Big Gulp douche with matso balls!  

I rested about two hours, and then I had to find something to eat.  I was famished!  I finally found a garbage can with some halfway decent spaghetti and meatballs in one of them white containers I see you humans carry food in.  

I knew I had to get back immediately to the shed.  I'd set up a bed on some old rags, but I knew the kittens would be scooting around.  And they had!  I had to pick two of them up and set them down with the rest, and then make sure I didn't lay on them as I tried to keep them warm.

The next day, this young girl opened the door of the shed and found me in a very precarious position.  They had all just started feeding time, so none of them was even thinking about letting go.  I couldn't do anything but lay there and hope that she didn't decide to hurt any of us.  

Surprisingly, she left, but came back a few minutes later with a big box.  I'd heard stories about cats being either bagged up or boxed up and tossed in the river, but I just couldn't leave my kids alone.  One by one, she gently picked them up and set them in the box.  Finally, she grabbed me and put me in there, too!  

Would you believe there was a real blanket in the bottom for us all to rest on?   

The next thing I know the lid's on and we're all being carried somewhere.  When she opened it up, I hopped out to find a fenced in patio awaiting all of us.   It wasn't God's country, and was kind of cold at times, but it was better than the woodshed in that she supplied me with water and food most of the time.   

Well, the weeks went on and on, and that patio began to seem like a prison.  Besides that, my six kids were growing so fast!   Always underfoot, always wanting to eat (Breast feeding sucks ... literally!), always wanting something.  God!  If I could’ve just had some peace and quiet.  

Then, one day, my prison keeper puts me in a box and takes me in her car to this real house of horrors.

Damn bitch had my tubes tied!   I had four feet walking pigeon toed!

So, the next day I get back to the house, and half my kids are gone!   Not only am I sore as hell from the operation, but my kids are missing.  Where the hell are my kids???    

Before I can figure it out, the doorbell rings and here comes a couple looking at the remaining three!  They took two of them!  Didn't matter what I said or thought, she just picked them right up and gave them to the couple!   

You might say I was somewhat pissed!

Rich, just tell her I've got a headache!
Just had to get me fixed, didn't you!!!???

The next day found another person coming and taking my remaining kitten.   Still sore, my kids all taken by Child Services and put into foster homes, and I'm stuck on this damn fenced in patio!   Boy, my life had sure gone to Hell in a hand basket!   

So, I'm a little depressed, you might say, and that's when Rich and his wife showed up.  Well, they both seemed nice enough, but I sure wasn't in the mood to be talked to or petted.  In fact, I was pretty damn fed up with life!

Next thing you know, I'm getting put into some sort of cage and taken to their house.  First damn thing I see is this good lookin' male cat named Faletame.   But, this guy's also been to the house of horrors and so he can't do anything even if I wanted him to!   Just what I wanted ... a life of abstinence.  

At least y’all get some when the kids go to bed!   

Anyway, that's my story.  I don’t imagine Rich will let me write here again.  This will probably be the only “Mommy Blog” you’ll see on his site.  Oh, he can be a real Mother _____ at times, but he’s no “mommy”, that’s for sure.  

It’s been real.  You all take care, and when you think you’ve had it bad, just think about me, living with a eunuch that thinks he’s a stud, and a couple of humans that are helping me to get fat!

By the way, how is that ice cream with pickles, anyway?

©Copyright RCRUMPLE2013. All Rights Reserved

Here we go again! Finish the Sentence Friday!

Kids always do just the right thing
at just the right moment!

"Well I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."

Bob Dylan wrote those words over half a century ago.  Funny thing was, you didn't need to inhale certain garden variety herbs to understand what they meant.  Many of us did anyway!

This is "Finish the Sentence Friday" again.  Something tells me, this thing has caught on.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Friends of all nations.  I present to you, for your consideration, four hostesses of this marvelous event!  These are all devoted individuals that know no boundaries when it comes to asking others to divulge the idiocies of their past, and secretly huddle in serene fits of pleasure giggles when reading how much some people will, indeed, divulge.  Will you please put your hands together and after a warm round of applause, please squeeze that mouse to visit them one and all!"

Your hostesses are:

Janine's  Confessions of a Mommyholic

Kate's  Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine

Stephanie's  Mommy for Real

Dawn's  Dawn's Disaster

Okay, so I'm old school.  They claim to be hosts, but the correct word I was raised with was hostess.  I'm pretty sure none have had operations to become hostesses, so calling them hosts would insinuate that they were once of another gender, or wish to be.  Okay, now I'm confused!

And Janine's singing, "Like Always!"

So, what does all of this have to do with Bob Dylan's song?  No, I didn't forget about that.  I just decided to tell you what was going on before really getting into the story line.  Patience! Patience!

Anyway, this week's sentence, or part of a sentence (Since it has no ending, it's really not a complete sentence, yet.  That's why it's called "Finish the Sentence Friday.")  is:

"When I was younger, I tried ..... "

So, without further ado, I believe it's now time to finish the sentence with a story of some type.  "Isn't that right, Janine?"

I can hear her hissing now, "Scooch!"   

When I was younger, I tried out a very corrupt philosophy.  I was nine years old, an avid reader, and had an imagination that combined logic with insanity to create theories not yet proven wrong to one so young.  

Some call it stupidity, or, 

a reason to keep your eyes on what your kids are doing at all times!

We had lived in the country with my grandparents farm as my backyard.  There were very few kids within a mile to play with, so I spent much of my time alone, reading, and imagining possibilities.  I knew about gravity (having fallen out of trees a time or two), so I knew the basics of what goes up must come down.

However, I also had much time to reason things out.  I knew that leg bones were straight, like boards were.  If you dropped a board from the hayloft on its end, it would simply bounce.  If it landed on it's side, it could break.  So, logic told me that anything straight could withstand much more impact if it landed correctly.

Somehow, I started believing that even if one dropped out of an airplane, they'd only be injured if they didn't land standing up!  I know, somewhat flawed.  But, to a nine year old, it made sense!

I see another theory about
to be proven!

I soon learned that we were going to have next door neighbors!  A gentleman that had worked with my grandfather had purchased a couple of acres of land right next to us and was building a house.  For weeks, I watched this future home rise high.  It wasn't going to be a single level home, but a split level, with the second floor facing our house.

Finally, one day, after the carpenters had left, I wandered over to the house.  I climbed up to the second floor and peered out at my house, amazed to be so high.  That was when I noticed the ladder going up to the uncompleted roof.  

Yep, I did it!  I climbed right up that ladder and stood atop the second floor.  The ground seemed so far away.  Yet, I knew it was the right time to test out my theory!

Kate's going, "OMG, Rich you were a dumbass even as a kid!"

Leaning out over the edge, precariously balancing back and forth, I was trying to gain the courage I needed to make that final leap.  I knew the house was built on a downward slope, so the ground was even further away than the foundation of the house.  Still, I needed to see if my thoughts made sense!

I leaned forward and jumped!

For a moment, I was soaring downward.  It's amazing how quickly Mother Earth will end that!

I landed feet first, but my forward motion immediately sent me rolling down the slope.  Over and over I tumbled, finally stopping at least twenty feet from the original landing zone.  

That's when the pain was first noticed.

My ankles were on fire, my knees were exploding, and my back was still trying to pop itself back into its normal position.  I wanted to cry out (and just cry, too), but I knew my mom would hear me and probably beat the hell out of my tail for pulling such a stunt.

Slowly, I got up, found no broken bones, and shook off the pain.

Regardless of popular opinion, this is NOT
proper landing position!

I had proven my theory!  I wasn't as stupid as the adults thought I was!  You could survive a fall from great heights if you landed on your feet!  

When we're young, we love to prove that we know more than adults, so we go to extremes to do so.  We take the chances that adults won't take because of their "educated" fears.  Oh, adults will come into the room and face closet monsters, but it's the kids who are the ones that attempt to prove you can do anything if you put your mind to it!  So, in a way, they're mentally older than those that allow fear to control them!  

"I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now!"

Now, where's that airplane?