True Story

{June 28, 2012}   Introduction to BuR Nation

True Story:  I have a friend named BuR.

He goes by BR, but after a few cocktails I like to call him BuR. After a few more cocktails an entire nation is created based on his essence and existence.

On my recent trip to the British Virgin Islands our crew, the 7 of us, accomplished an enormous feat. We actually created a new nation complete with our own language and currency.

I will give you a quick run down of what the BuR Nation is about. There will be more information later when I periodically post details of the BuR Nation birth amongst my other posts about my never-ending failure as a normal human being.

The following is an outline of our constitution, so to speak:

1) We are a peaceful nation. We set our bombs free. Literally.

2) Our national color is pink. You are rewarded for out pinking the other members of the tribe.

3) Our currency is pink and instead of “In God We Trust” it states “We Understand That” across the top. The exchange rate is 75%. We are worth it. We know you don’t like that rate and we understand that.

4) National holidays are often and “To Be Announced”. Mondays and Wednesdays are perfect for spur of the moment national holidays.

5) We speak BuRanease. It is basically English but with all words ending in ur, or RRRRRRRRRRR.

Example: Get smur and lur.

Translation: Get small and low. From time to time in BuRland you have to get small and low. Eventually, you will understand that.

6) We salute. You get lur (low) and put your right hand above your face like a sun visor. You can be kicked off the island for not returning a salur (salute).

7) We have picked out some land to claim in the British Virgins. We are going to take over the dogs. They are a rocky bunch of islands, so from time to time we may load the whole tribe on a floating vessel and become a nation on the move. When we are in port fun-loving people may come aboard, after exchanging their money of course, to be with the BuR people.

8) We go on mission trips. Sometimes, perhaps during a national holiday, we feel as though we should spread the love around. In this case we may moor up to another island or land mass, invade for a while, buy drinks, and teach our language and ideals to the natives. So far we have been met with some confusion with the language barrier, but then acceptance usually prevails. We have had no total conversions yet.

9) The BuR people do not judge. You may marry anyone or thing you like, including inanimate objects. If you enjoy the company of a beautiful boulder at sunset who listens to you, and think it would make for a suitable mate, by all means, the BuR people approve.

10) We import Pain Killers (famous Virgin Island rum drink) and export humor.

True Story: You are ready to move to BuRland aren’t you?

True Story:  It’s funny how your offspring view you.

Exhibit A above: G Monkey’s story about Mommy posted in the hallway at his preschool. Click on the picture to read first hand, then come back here for the explanations???

Preschool is at a church so lots of people get to read this on Sundays. Awesome.

1)  “My Mommy has green eyes and greasy hair”

Okay my hair can get a little greasy, but seriously, the kid is obsessed.

After I stopped to read his story at school his teacher called me over to see a picture he had painted of himself with his parents. See exhibit B below. I have brown hair and if you look closely you will see the green grease he insisted on painting in my hair. He actually told his teacher that he needed some green paint to make Mommy’s hair greasy like it should be. No abstract artist here. I think he is going for more of the portrait look.

To be fair to the kid doesn’t see me looking all that pretty very often. I work from home so I usually just throw on some clothes in the morning, run him to school/camp and back home to work. I probably only wear make up about 2 days a week, depending on my schedule.

True Side Story:  I had an appointment the other day and walked out of my bathroom dressed and told G Monkey it was time to Rocket. He hid his face in shame and said, “I don’t want to see you”.

Me:  Why?

GM:  Your make up. I can’t look at it.

He was so dramatic about it you would have thought I had been seriously deformed. It reminded me of that bloopers episode when Seinfeld was ending and Kramer says “don’t look at me. I’m hideous”.

Oh Seinfeld, how I miss you… Great Television. Now, other than premium cable channels, the TV is covered up with Jersey Shore and other reality crap.

True Story:  I have a hard time hiding my disdain for reality TV. It’s rubber-necking at it’s finest. It takes writing jobs away from writers. It makes untalented people famous. But most importantly, if I want to see people make asses of themselves I can just walk over to the Florabama on a Monday night.

Back to the hair. I have always been known for my “crazy” hair.  It is short and sticks straight up every morning when I wake up. It is a constant source of jokes for family and anyone else who has ever been lucky enough to wake up near me. About 12 hours after a washing it is greasy. Let’s just say I am a big fan of dry shampoo.

True Story:  A grandparent at preschool asked me if I was a late night nurse that worked crazy shifts?

Me:: No.

Grandparent:  Oh, you just look like you work crazy shifts.

Not so sure that was a compliment. Maybe I should step up my game. I’m certainly not going to meet single hot dad at school at this rate.

2) “I don’t know how old she is”

I really thought he knew how old I was because at bed time the other night I said, “night-night baby. I love you”.

G Monkey:  I love you too old lady.

I shut the door and thought, “who is that kid”?

3) “Her favorite thing to eat is salad”

Really? Salad? No. I mean I think salad is lovely but it certainly wouldn’t be my last meal. I guess he sees me eat a lot of salad because it’s easy and I am not cooking for just me. Plus, isn’t salad about 90% of most women’s food intake?

4)  “Her favorite thing to drink is diet coke”

Okay, I think we can all agree that I dodged a major bullet on the diet coke. Whew! The teacher said only 1 kid ratted their parents out on the booze, and it wasn’t mine. Score. It’s the little things that make me happy.

I have mentioned before that G Monkey calls all adult beverages beer. He will put a bottle of wine on the conveyor belt at the grocery store and scream, “here’s your beer Mommy”.

5)  “Mommy doesn’t do anything fun by herself.

Hahaha. Sweet, innocent baby boy. He would be so proud to see Mommy dancing at the Florabama when he is with his Daddy.

He told me I looked pretty earlier this week. He is either the sweetest kid in the world or he really knows how to BS. He also made homemade cards for some of his friends from school. Some, that is. Not all made the cut. I guess they might as well start finding out the truth about life in preschool. We don’t all make the cut all the time.

G Monkey is learning. The last day of spring break I took him to swim in the bay at a restaurant where a lot of kids and dogs run around. I saw him trying to hang out with these older girls on a raft. He came slouching all pouty out of the water and over to me.

GM:  They told me to go away.

Me:  I’m sorry Baby. Some kids are like that. There are some other kids out there to play with.

He sat down and picked up his slice of pizza and said almost to himself, “I hate when they do that”.


6)  “She works at her work and shows a paper”

I work at my work like most of you. I was thinking he would say I show houses as he has been to several last-minute showings with me. I had to think about “showing a paper”. Then I realized anytime that he is with me and we stop by my office I turn in paperwork or files. Those little observant cookie crumblers. I do show papers at my work!

7) “She make me laugh when she puts a towel on my head”

I have done that once. You never know what makes an impression.

8) “Mommy is special to me when she cleans up her trash”

Let me clarify.I clean up my trash when I am yelling at my first-born, The Demanding Paw. If she feels she has been inconvenienced at all in her precious little life she will get into my bathroom trash can and pull the trash out all over the floor just for a little “eff you”.

If there happens to be no trash in the can she will bite the end of the toilet paper and pull that out instead.

There is no crossing the Demanding Paw. You will pay.

My son thinks it is special to see steam come out of my ears while I pick up little pieces of trash all over the house and yell at the dog.

9) “I know Mommy loves me because I have $143 dollars”

Excuse me a minute.

True Story:  I promise I was not just digging through my 4-year-old’s room and piggy bank looking for $143 dollars.

It’s got to be here somewhere.

{June 7, 2012}   So this happened

True Story:  It should really be titled: So May happened, I mean the last few months, I mean the last 2-3 years happened.

Disclaimer:  Bullsh*t excuse coming.

I have been a total slacker on blogging. The last 6 weeks we have been re-writing the next film, I moved AGAIN, lots of G Monkey business, TRYING to sell real estate, deal with an international Prairie Love deal, and other general business.

Excuses are like buttholes, right? We all got em.

I have so much to share with you about the entire Month of May. It certainly will not all fit in this post. You would be reading for a week, and I am sure many of you have families to tend to.

First of all, this blog will have a sub-blog about the BuR Nation. I can’t get into too many details about it right now. Let’s just say I havent belly laughed about something so funny to me in so long, that it just feels right to share it with world. Stay tuned for more details of how you can join the BuR Nation. You will not like the exchange rate, but we understand that.

I had 2 family vacations this month that deserve their own sub-blog categories. But today I am just going to talk about 1 day in the recent sh*tstorm of my life.

Now, y’all know by now that I try to remain positive. The recent divorce, brokeness, oil spill, affair, moving, God the moving is the worst, have not broken me yet. But this day almost did.

You don’t have to believe or follow astrology to know something is going on around you that you can’t get out from under. I happen to follow Susan Miller’s She is one of the top astrology professionals in the world. She counsels governments, etc… Anyway, her monthly posts are very detailed and fun to read. Unless you are me most recently, in which she wrote, your life has been a sh*tstorm the last 2.5 years, and it’s going to get worse right now, and then you are coming out of it soon stronger ready for anything and everything. This last few weeks my birthdate in particular has been affected.

I don’t believe in luck. Luck is when hard work meets opportunity. I also don’t believe that everything that happens to me is caused by an outside force like planets. I happen to know that I’m a dumbass and screw sh*t up for myself all the time. But some things are true whether we believe them or not. And I have to admit along with the other Libras out there that some cloud has been following me around lately and I am ready to kick its ass.

So it is the week before I go to the British Virgin Islands for a week. I can’t afford to go but it is happening anyway. I am leaving a lot of balls up in the air to leave town: real estate deals, trying to unexpectedly deliver (turn over materials) to our foreign sales agent for an overseas Prairie Love distribution deal, take care of LLC and banking business for the new movie, and spend time with G Monkey. Oh yeah, and I had to be out of my old house before I left town and into my new house. So also moving and cleaning, which rocks as you know.

G Monkey happens to be in between school and summer camp this one week. Which is good because I get to spend time with him before I have to be away from him, but bad because I am so busy and forced to not be annoyed with him and play when I don’t really have the time.

Advice:  Do not move into the 1st floor of a fancy high-rise the week after their annual Home Owners Meeting. They are constantly fixing things and marking off the buildings “to do” list with contractors right outside my large see-in glass windows. This makes running through the condo dripping wet and naked from the shower to dig a towel out of a box difficult.

So one morning of this particular crazy week I get dressed wearing one of my favorite shirts and take the Demanding Paw to the dog walk area. She is doing her duty (get on the floor and give me some booty). Sorry the urge to write that song lyric was uncontrollable.

Anyway, all of a sudden on this bright cloudless day, I am hit by a rain shower. What’s more puzzling than that is that through my worthless nose which carries no olfactory glands at all, I can smell the bleach burning through my shirt.

They were pressure washing a balcony above me. Awesome. Good timing. I threw that shirt in the trash. One less thing to clean and fold.

True Story: They know me around this building.

I am not just saying that. They KNOW me. I got married here for God’s sake before it was even complete. I am in and out of it all the time.  Same management team for years.

With that being said, they know my car. You can not miss it. It is the only car in the parking lot that screams “Which one of us does not belong”. It’s an old piece of sh*t covered in bumper stickers. Not only do they know my car, they know I have a parking pass. Unfortunately sometime between the last time I drove it the day before and this morning the parking pass had fallen to the floorboard.

As I am walking by my car on my way in from getting bleached I see something unfamiliar. It is a giant 8×4 inch warning sticker in the middle of the driver’s side window. WTF? I peeled it off but by this time it had melted in the sun and now there is a white sticky film in the middle of my window which blocks my view. The car has been washed twice since. It will not come off. I have to roll down my window to see in order to pull out into summer time traffic. So that’s really great if you like awesomeness.

I stomped back inside the building, grabbed my packing tape, stomped back out to my car and wrapped the tape around the pass and rearview mirror 50 times. That mother effer’s not moving.

I started to shed 1 corner tear of frustration. Then said, “No. Universe, you can not beat me today”. Ironically, my new bumper sticker from the BVI says, “The beatings will continue until morale improves”. Fitting I thought.

So the rest of the day was spent fielding calls about a property I could have sold 25 times if it had clear title and trying to be fun Mom before I leave. There were more frustrating phone calls and emails, but I have blocked them from my memory.

Later that afternoon G Monkey and I stop in the Rite Aid. I am looking for some last-minute TSA pleasing travelling miniature items, and G Monkey is going to pick out a treat. I was spoiling him before leaving him for 8 days of course.

I am bent over looking at the travel stuff when I hear, “Uh, Mommy”.

Me:  Yes, Son.

GM: Uh, I can see your butt.

Me:  Don’t say butt, say bottom.

GM: Okay. Uh, Mommy.

Me: Yes.

GM:  I can see your bottom.

Me:  Okay. That’s fine.

Next thing I know I feel a little warm small hand on my big cold white bottom.

My shorts were split from top to bottom and I wasn’t wearing undies. My T-shirt did not go much further than my waist. @#$%^&*$#!$%^&&^%$$#*!!!!!!!!!!! WTF???

Me:  How long has it been this way? Did you notice before? Oh My God. I had no idea. I didn’t even feel it.

GM:  Uh Mommy. Can I pick out a treat now?

Me: Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t. Okay, stand behind me the whole time. Don’t let anyone see Mommy’s bottom.

I still had to go all the way to the back of the store to pick up a prescription that I needed for my trip. I saw some men’s shorts and swim trunks on a rack. I called out to the lady that worked there, “Ma’am, do you sell women’s shorts or skirts”?

She nods and walks away. She comes back with a pair of Barbie doll size tween beach shorts that wouldn’t fit on one of my feet. If I wasn’t holding my very large hand over my ass and the other hand keeping G Monkey from leaving me I would have started throwing things off the nearest shelf at her.

Me: Is that all you got?

She nods.

Me:  Awesome.

I make G Monkey walk behind me while I got the scrip and got the hell out of there.

True Story:  On the way out G Monkey started to run into the parking lot. For the safety of my child I let go of my pants and grabbed him. The man behind me had a hard time suppressing his grin when I turned around to see him and cover myself back up.

Honestly, I would have rather just walked in there totally naked and shopped instead of trying to keep the cheeks from scaring customers and scarring children. And the truth is, we really aren’t sure how long they were out there shining their whiteness all over town.

True Story:  If you have not received a return email or facebook message from me lately it is because of this kind of sh*tstorm I have been dealing with.

All you can do is drink after a day like that.

et cetera