True Story

{July 1, 2010} 5th Grade Yearbook

True Story: Kids say the darndest things:

Entry # 1 Circa 1986

To a crazy and sweet friend. You are very nice to me. So, therefore I will be nice to you. Good luck throughout all the years.

love

Have fun with Archie

5th grade rules: You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.

Archie must have been my main squeeze for a while.

Entry # 2

To a good friend that I would like to play tennis with again.

Love

Sure, anytime.

Entry # 3

To a crazy and wild friend. Ha Ha. Your someone to talk to. Be nice if you can. Ha Ha. Good luck.

Entry #4

Ashley

Like you wrote in my annual you’ve been a friend all year. You’ve even cheated with me. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! No I don’t really cheat, just on daily work. Like you said, you probably won’t get out of here alive. Well bye!

LYLAS, B

LYLAS – for those of you that don’t know, means “Love Ya Like A Sister”. Apparently 5th grade was so traumatic, I didn’t think I would get out of there alive. I clearly didn’t know anything about cancer, oil spills, or toddlers with stomach bugs…

Entry # 5

To a very sexy girl.

WTF??? People, this is what your 5th graders are talking about. And this was before the internet and/or sexting.

Entry# 6

Ashley,

Good luck with the guys. Ha Ha.

Where is she now??? I need help .

Entry #7

To a good friend that don’t tell my secrets at ALL and I thank you.

Love, JR

I still can keep other people’s secrets, just not my own. Case in point, this blog.

Entry #8

Have fun! You’re so sexy! I love you!

Again, WTF??? How can a 5th grader be sexy? I didn’t even go through puberty till 7th grade.

Entry # 9

To a nerdy girl.

Some things never change.

Entry # 10

To a weirdo.

Love it!

Entry # 11

Ashley

You’re awesome! Stay that way!.

Love ya, Awesome Ash!

I wrote that to myself. Healthy, healthy, self-esteem. Again, nobody changes.

Entry# 12

Call me 555-5555

Hhhhmmmm…

Entry # 13

To the best sexiest woman I have ever seen till Brandie. I still think she looks hotter in the yearbook. And I hope that I pass. Because if I do, I hope to be in the same class next year.

Love, S – The Best

Brandie, that b*tch. I might have been hanging out with the wrong crowd. Thoughts?

Entry # 13

To my Best friend, I will always remember you. Write me sometime. I’ll write you! See you whenever. Talk to you later!

I’m getting mixed signals here.

Entry # 14

To a great, hey, wait everybody’s been saying that. I know we’ve had our share of fights. But I still think we are the best 2 of friends that could be. Remember, you can always lean on me! Ha Ha! (the song). See you next year.

Sweet S

She tried to beat me up on a daily basis after writing this.

Entry # 15

Ashley, this is in 1990.

That would be my youngest sister meddling in my beeswax. Probably in my room when she wasn’t supposed to be.

Entry # 16

The feeling is mutual. You’re a butthole, but you are okay.

I guess I started it.

And Finally Entry # 17

To Awesome girl Ash,

N – Lover Boy – N

True Story: I had forgotten how dirty minded 5th grade boys are. It all comes full circle. I should have learned back then not to mess with them.

I only found this yearbook and was able to reminisce because it was in a stack of books and things returned to me recently, after I had piled ALL of Ex-Pump’s things outside and said, “better get it all before it rains”.

Some girls never learn.

{June 23, 2010} Dat Hurt!

True Story: When G Monkey is emotionally hurt he will say that one of his body parts hurts.

Examples:

Me: What do you want for breakfast?

G Monkey: Cake!

Me: You can’t have cake for breakfast.

G Monkey: OH! Dat hurts da tummy.

__________________________________________________________

G Monkey: Go outside and pway.

Me: We can’t baby. It’s raining.

G Monkey: Oh! Dat hurt da head!

_________________________________________________________

True Story: The other morning G Monkey and I were in bed and I had a glass of water and he had a juice box. He drank the last sip of my water and said, “more wadder pweese”.

Me: No baby, you’ve got a juice box there. Drink that.

G Monkey: Oh! Dat hurt da penis.

Me. That did not hurt your penis because I don’t want to get up and get you more water right now.

Pa-lees!

{June 19, 2010} How to get a Boyfriend

True Story: In 5th Grade when Miss Pris moved to town and stole my boyfriend, I did 3 back hand-springs in a row outside of school in front of everyone to win him back.

It worked.

Ladies: Listen up!

{June 16, 2010} Bring it on – What else you got?

True Story: So I’m starring down an oil slick, bankruptcy, divorce, single mom-hood, and then my sinuses decide to turn into the Great wall of China and block all flow.

Truth is, I don’t get sick that often. I know everyone says that (we are all in denial), but I was raised in a household where antibiotic was a bad word, and you only got them if you could prove infection.

I have always had bad allergies and sinusitis… So truly, when I am sick, it is usually a sinus infection.

Those of you sufferers know that untreated, they can last 6 weeks or more. I’ll admit I’ve had a few more since I have had a preschooler.

Along with all my other madness, our health insurance has lapsed.

I couldn’t take my sinuses any longer and got referred to a “cheap doctor”, back ally madness (not really).

I’m new, so she is taking my history.

Dr: Tobacco?

Me: Didn’t used to.

Dr: What do you mean?

Me: Well, I’m a little stressed lately. Might be partaking in a ciggy at the end of the night.

Dr: Everyone is stressed right now. (She’s thinking economy).

Me: Yeah…

Dr: Alcohol?

Me: Yep.

Dr: How often?

Me: Every night.

Dr: Every night?

Me: Yep.

Dr: You might want to keep an eye on that so it doesn’t get out of control.

Me: Where were you when I was 13?

True Story: I realize that cigarettes & alcohol contribute to a sleepless night.

This was a BIG green monster that no amount of rest, exercise or fruit was going to cure. It was a BIOTIC that needed an ANTI.

{June 14, 2010} Photogenic

True Story: The best picture EVER taken of me was my first grade class picture.

If I have to date again in the future (Can’t Imagine that I will ever want to), should I post that photo on my online dating profiles?

True Story: I was adorable then. The end result? Eh, iffy.

{June 13, 2010} He’s an “Only”

True Story: For several reasons G Monkey will be an only child.

Now, I may take in a stray down the road, and love them as my own. But there will be no more babies up in this muth.

I didn’t realize being an only child was a disability or truly a “label” until the MIL said the other day, “Well… he’s an Only… So, you know… gonna be rough”.

Me: What?!?!

Me Thinking: WTF is she talking about? That child has more love, more grandparents, cousins and friends than he can stand. He actually chooses to be alone sometimes and play.

The good news is his parents are no hermits. We’ll probably let him out to shake some of that “only” off of him every once in a while.

Myself, having a large family, have wondered from time to time if he would prefer a sibling. I have asked grown “Onlies” how they fared. Most seemed to have turned out alright. So I don’t think I will get him a therapist just yet.

True Story: He’s going to be just fine. And here’s an example of why:

Sometime over the last year our portable video player decided he couldn’t play Elmo, Curious George, Big Bird, Barney, or Thomas one more time, and flung himself onto Interstate 65 while I was going 70 (80) miles an hour. Take note that the video player is a ” he”. I think “he’s” bail out a lot quicker than “she’s”. If it had been a female video player, she would probably have hung in there a little while longer.

True Story: I have considered jumping off of something myself after hearing Thomas the Tank Engine tell me he’s cross for the gazillionth time.

So, I was concerned on our last road trip together how G Monkey would be entertained for 4.5 hours.

Well… That turned out to be a moot point. “Only” read his flash cards the WHOLE time, minus a 1 hour conversation that he had with a french fry.

The only time he got upset was when I stopped to stretch his legs ( he was too busy studying) and when he would drop a flash card:

G Monkey: OH NOOOOOOOOOOO

Me: What is it?

G Monkey: Oh No. I dwopped a caa- awd… I can’t weach it.

At which point I would proceed to run us off the road while trying to reach a site-word flash card whilst driving 70 (80) miles an hour.

True Story: He has lots of imaginary friends. Does that count?

{June 5, 2010} Flowers grow where Dirt used to be

True Story: My husband had an affair with a Vampire.

That’s right. A real life Vampire. I have mentioned this female version of half-life in previous posts. But didn’t want to blog about it right off the bat, because this is a humor blog. And although, infidelity is hilarious, I didn’t want my blog to be a bitch fest.

True Story: In light of recent events, it may become one…

Naaaa… If anything has saved me in my troubled times, it has been my sense of humor. I don’t plan on giving up on that now.

I call her a Vampire for these simple (self-explanatory if you know her) reasons:

1) She’s pale. Seriously.

2) She walked among us without revealing her true nature.

3) She slipped in my house in the dark while I was sleeping to be with my husband, and hid this in the daylight.

She was my friend AND colleague. Yes. You don’t have to say it. I have re-evaluated my choices in friends.

True Story: When I started this post, over a week ago in honor of my 4th wedding anniversary, the title of it made sense. My marriage survived the affair, and we were patching it up. Despite stressful times we appeared to be stronger than ever.

In the last few days, Pump has decided to give up on our marriage.

True Story: The flowers have been ripped out of the ground like weeds.

Don’t fret. The chaos of my ever-changing true life stories will continue…

{May 28, 2010} Breast Milk

True Story: Breast Milk is Funny. Here are 3 reasons why.

1) I once transported coolers full of a good friend’s breast milk 6 hours across state lines. I was praying to get pulled over so I could explain.

2) Pump thought lactating women were soooooooo sexy. Notice the use of the word thought.

Example:

Me: Look at that woman?

Pump: Why, is she lactating? Awesome.

Then… I got pregnant. All of the sudden moody, lactating women weren’t sexy anymore.

Pump: Uh, your leaking… Gross…

Me: I’m lactating. Isn’t it hot?

Pump: No. That’s G Monkey’s food.

True Story: Since the birth of our son, almost 3 years ago, I have not heard the phrase Is she lactating once. I used to hear it on a daily basis.

3) Picture this: Big important meeting. Discussing the purchase of millions of dollars worth of real estate. I’m on fire. I’ve got this group of men in the palm of my hand. They think I’m smart. This young woman knows what she’s talking about…

Enter: Wet spot, spreading across my shirt in the breast area. It gets to about 6 inches in diameter before one of the very embarrassed men says something to me.

True Story: Give me a frigging break.

{May 25, 2010} There are Always Options

True Story: My MIL has taught me there are MANY ways to get rid of a husband.

A few years ago she told me that a particular amount of crushed up apple seeds ingested by a bad husband could kill him. She just thought I might need to know that.

Most recently she said with all the sincerity in the world, “If I could just find him (her husband) someone else, he could love her, and I could do my own thing”.

True Story: Current husband is #5

{May 22, 2010} BP Sucks!

True Story: I have been avoiding BP way before your Momma met your Poppa.

Since recent events in our precious Gulf of Mexico have sent BP oil spewing all over the place, I am flooded with nightmares of my nemesis who works at the Money Back BP Station in Orange Beach, AL.

True Story: Unfortunately, the meanest of all Meanies works at the closest gas station to my house. Therefore, I can’t shop at this gas station now for 2 reasons: 1) BP Corporation is a Liar Liar Pants on Fire, and 2) A sad man who hates human beings works the cash register on the afternoon/evening shift.

This really irks me that I can’t shop here, because it is a nice clean store with a great wine selection for a stop n shop. This would normally be where I would stop for a bottle of wine on the way home from work (Not EVERYDAY… Geez). But now, I have to search for a parking spot and walk my tired ass into a REAL grocery store in order to avoid the jerks (BP & Meany).

Latest 3 Examples of Meany’s bad behavior:

1) I was checking out with Meany when a sweet, older man walked in the store behind me.

Older Man: Excuse me sir, I can’t get Pump # 3 to work? Could you help me?

Meany: I’ll be with you in a minute… And if your bad attitude continues, you can purchase gas somewhere else.

Older man: Speechless

Me: (Mouthing) WTF???

2) I stop on the way home one evening for a bottle of wine to accompany our dinner. I put it on the counter in front of Meany.

Meany: I need to see your ID.

Me: No Problem. (Hey I’m pushy 35, can you say compliment)?

Meany: It’s not my problem.

Me: Okay…

He studies the ID for a good 90 seconds. He apparently wants the goods and services to leave the Money Back BP only under mandatory circumstances.

Meany: Your ID expires in November.

It’s like March maybe.

Me: Okay.

I’m now toe-tapping to get my ID back, pay the man and get the hell out of creepy store.

Meany: (Raising his voice) I have to check this.

Me: (Lighthearted) Oh I know, I don’t care.

Meany: I don’t care either… I DON’T CARE IF YOU EVER COME BACK IN HERE AGAIN.

Me: (Staring into his hateful eyes) Dude. You hate yourself.

I ran out the door.

3) I stopped by the Money Back BP around 2pm one afternoon thinking it was too early in the day for Meany’s shift to start… Wrong. I walked in, locked eyes with him… Threw my hands in the air, swore and stomped out.

True Story: I complained to his manager one morning. She told me to really piss him off… I should buy about $200 worth of stuff and put it on the counter and that would really “stick it to him”.

Good Idea lady. She clearly has no plans to fire him, so I have no plans to shop there.

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