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No More Soccer EVER!

I feel like that should read No More Wire Hangers EVERRRR because Joan Crawford’s hatred of wire hangers is close to my hatred of my kid playing soccer. Yes, I’ve been bitching and whining about how I can’s stand being a “soccer mom” because of it being such a time suck and my kid hates going to practices. Getting her out the door for practice made me want to crawl into a ball and cry.

I bitched and moaned about it to my husband for the past three years and it turns out whining about something for that long finally registered with my husband. But, for some reason, it can take them twice as long to fix something you’ve been asking them to.

So to recap, bitch and whine, don’t politely ask your partner to fix something and they’ll do it faster.

A few weeks ago, my husband said the sweetest words to me that I’ve ever heard in our nearly twenty two years together (yes, we married very young). He said:

“Next year, I’m not signing the hummingbird up for soccer.”

I told him:

“Hallefuckingluah! I could fuck you right now!”

Little did I know that the soccer coach was to my right side, handing out soccer pictures and heard every word.

Whoops.

*Blue Orchid

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A Hairbrush In My Coffee Cup

Me:*Sips coffee* C’mon, brush your teeth and hair! The bus will be here soon!

Hummingbird: Okay!

Me: Please, hurry up! Brush your teeth and hair!

Hummingbird: Okay!

Me: *Sips coffee and thinks to self to record this mantra that I tell my daughter so I can play it back every morning*

Me: What are you doing?? You need to brush your teeth and hair!!

Hummingbird: Okay!

Me: C’mon! Let’s go!

Hummingbird: I did it! Can I brush your hair now?

Me: *Sips coffee* Sure!

Hummingbird: *Leans over me on the chair* *Hairbrush PLOPS right into my coffee*

Me: Me on the outside… That’s okay, it was an accident. Get your shoes on because the bus is going to be here soon. Me on the inside… *OMG, I’m actually drinking warm-ish coffee and I’m almost at the delicious bottom of my awesome coffee and a hairbrush falls in my cup. What are the fucking odds? Dammit! I almost had a whole cup of warm-ish coffee. Bahfuckinghumbug! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And this is part of the reason why I’m drawn to the icky crack liquid of Red Bull. It’s already cold and you can chug it in between yelling at your kid to hurry up and get ready for school.

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*Ed

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Hide My Shit

When I was about 9 or 10, I borrowed my mom’s scissors for something and when she asked for them back, I forgot where I put them. On television, they were showing an Alice In Wonderland two-part special and it was the second night. Since I couldn’t find the scissors, my mom was angry and wouldn’t let me see the second night of it. I thought she was the meanest mom in the world. The scissors were found the next day where I had absent-mindedly put them on a windowsill covered by a curtain.

Turns out, my mom wasn’t in fact the meanest mom in the world. She was just sick and tired of me losing her shit all the time, I’m sure. I’ve found that I have to hide anything, even from my husband, that I don’t want to go missing. In fact, the issues of scissors comes up frequently. I have a secret spot for two pairs of scissors. One is a small pair and the other I use to open up my hundreds of amazon packages.

The small orange handled one is hidden away in my bathroom and the other scissors are in the very back of our junk drawer. But, even those get found and then lost so I resorted to hiding them in the bedroom closet. The older my daughter gets, the more I have to be a hiding ninja.

It’s the same with my lighters that I use for my vanilla candle addiction. I use the long lighters and probably go through several a year since my husband will borrow one for the grill and I’ll reluctantly hand it over and then will I ever see that lighter again? Of course not.

Somehow, between the kitchen and my husband’s grill on the deck, it gets Twilight Zone’d and disappears into thin air. Later on, I’ll want to light some candles for winding down and then I can’t find the fucking lighter. My husband will just respond with “it’ll show up sometime” and I want to bop him on the head because how does he expect me to unwind when I can’t find the damn lighter for my damn candles so I can fucking relax?!

Then, there’s the chocolate issue. We have a bowl of candy in the pantry but I’m hooked on the Lindt chocolate truffles and have to be careful where I put them. I thought the perfect place would be behind my Shakeology bag… fyi, that stuff is gross. It turns into this gelatinous goo even when I drink it in a fast amount of time. I know some people swear by the stuff but if you come across it, don’t bother. Making my own fruit smoothies with protein powder is so much better.

Okay, I’m totally off track. Back to my chocolate. I hid it behind my protein powder where I thought my husband never goes and while the hummingbird was wanting some chocolate, he mentioned my chocolate stash. That’s mine! My precious Lindt truffles are all miiine!

So, I have to find a better place to hide them if I buy a bag… like in my belly. If you’re a parent or parent to be, hide your shit. Because if you don’t, you’ll never see it again. Then again, when you have kids, you have to worry about finding their shit too.

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Finding Lost Soccer Socks And Shin Guards Twice A Week Will Be The Death Of Me

Every soccer season is dreadful because it ends up being so time-consuming. I love that the hummingbird enjoys playing but her weekly practices are late and by the time the season is over with, I freeze my ass off and it’s dark when practice is done.

Then, there’s the games. We got lucky because most of her games are at 8:15 in the morning. 8 fucking 15 on a Saturday morning. That’s crazy for me. The most annoying part of her playing soccer is that two days a week I tell her the same thing over and over and over again.

Put the soccer gear in the same place every time so we know where it is.

I don’t know if it’s little mischievous soccer fairies that move these things around but by the time we’re in a rush to go to practice or a game, we can’t find her stuff.

It will be by the door one day and the next, it’ll be gone. She’ll have no idea where it is and I’ll rip the house apart while yelling in my head that soccer sucks and it’s not worth the frustration week after week and year after year.

I hate the fucking soccer season.

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James Fucking Bay Is On Stage But Go Ahead And Keep Taking Selfies With Duck Lips, Dumbass

The last concert I went to was about three years ago. It was Nine Inch Nails and the people that had their phones out were mostly taking pictures of the band. Fast forward to last weekend when we saw James Bay. It was an excellent show but I noticed one thing.

Everybody around me were taking pics. Some were of James Bay but mostly it was selfies. I was sitting by a ridiculous pair of girls beside me and in front of me.

They were snap, snap, snapping away before the concert started which was no big deal. Bu then, when James Fucking Bay came onstage, it wasn’t even a few minutes in that these people used it as a photo op for themselves.

I couldn’t help but notice that the girl sitting beside me went through pics of duck lips after duck lips before she chose one to post on Facebook. I don’t know how she chose one since they all looked alike.

I’m practically elf short so even when standing on my tippy toes, I couldn’t see the stage that well which is why I noticed so many of these girls taking selfies throughout the show.

Maybe I’m just old and don’t get it but then again, I hate taking selfies. I hate taking pictures in general unless I’m only showing it to a few people but I have some friends who are selfie obsessed and day after day I’ll see a new selfie and think, yep, you still have your same face. Total shocker!

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Anxiety Sucks

The anxiety I have always becomes much worse this time of year. I worry about every little fucking thing that I possibly can. I have major anxiety about driving and it’s become worse than I thought it could when I got into a fender bender in a grocery store parking lot a few weeks ago.

I was waiting for a blue SUV to pull out by me and once I started backing out, bam, the guy in the Dodge Durango pulled out at the same time and we didn’t see each other. His truck didn’t have a scratch on it but my poor Subaru got a dent in the back bumper that looks like the Hulk smashed it with his fist. I also got part of my taillight broken off.

I’m taking it to the body shop on Monday and getting a rental for a few days. But, my anxiety is out of control even more now. I used to panic and stress with driving in general but now when I’m in parking lots, I full on panic. I know it was just an accident and they can happen to anyone but I’ve been overthinking the fender bender, which is what I do best. Overthink.

Now, when I’m in a parking lot, I park far away from the other cars. Leave it to a big ass truck to park right next to me though.

I was also invited to someone’s house where there will be other people and my anxiety is really kicking in over that because yay, not only do I have anxiety but my social anxiety is off the charts. I’m making myself go though because I’m sick of anxiety always taking over my life.

It’s so hard to break through it. I’ve tried to channel my anxiety into positive and creative ways and while some things work, others don’t.

Xanax only does so much for me but without it, I’d be even more stark raving mad. I also have a surgery coming up and guess what? I’m thinking of all the things that can go wrong with it. Nothing like dying but the thought of being in physical pain makes me cringe.

I recently went on a panicky talking streak with my husband about how my anxiety can be really debilitating at times. People who don’t have it will never get it though. It’s not something you can just snap out of. It doesn’t matter how much therapy I’ve had over the years. It’s just the way I’m wired. I try to be more mindful and live in the moment but anxiety and depression rears its ugly head at me.

The panic attacks are so overwhelming. When I have one, it feels like I’m suffocating and I start shaking while my mind feels like I’m in a prison cell. I want to escape my body but I can’t. It can feel like I’m drowning and being chained to all of my dark thoughts.

Anxiety, you suck.

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Our Former Landlord Is Psycho

Warning… ranty words ahead.

Now that we finally bought a house after years of moving all over for the Navy, I thought we would finally be done with dealing with the worst landlord we’ve ever had at our last house.

But nope. This woman is a c u n t mobile. And, she’s a lawyer which is why she can find the loopholes to fuck us over. I know there’s much worse landlord stories than what we’ve gone through. My cousin, her husband and kids are dealing with a woman who puts locks on their shed and throws their little girl’s stuff all over the yard that they had stored away.

The rental market here sucks ass and last year, we only found one somewhat suitable property. It was overpriced and dumpy but it was between that or moving out an hour from where we were living. The house was so overpriced in rent by about 600 dollars but we were really screwed with the lack of options. We also decided not to buy back then because we were still planning on moving back to California or Seattle.

So, we rented from Ms. C u n t Mobile because we didn’t have any other options. From the second day we lived there and on, it was such a pain in the ass. Not only was the value of the house much lower while the landlord jacked up the price, there were also red flags with signing the lease.

She added in that if the stackable washer and dryer were to break, she wouldn’t buy a new one for the house while we were still there.

What I didn’t know was that the washer/dryer was a piece of shit that had the most disgusting smell. Something I wasn’t able to find out until we moved in. Blah, blah, blah, I ended up cleaning out black sludge from the rim of the washer because it hadn’t been taken care of. Not long after, guess what? Why, of course. The washer broke. Luckily we had our own but it wasn’t stackable and there was only enough space for a stackable one so the hubby had to build some contraption were it could fit in the small bathroom.

Ms. C u n t Mobile didn’t give a shit and didn’t even offer to haul it away. We had to have some friends move it down to the basement where it stunk everything up down there.

The landlord would also refuse to do any pest control. We had spiders all over and as much as my husband sprayed. It didn’t make a dent in them. One night while making my daughter’s lunch, I felt something drop on my arm from the ceiling and it was a fucking spider.

Oh my fucking god. After that, every time I made her lunch, I would be looking up at the ceiling every few seconds.

Another issue was the carpet. Not only was it old and falling apart, it was filthy. She kept insisting it was cleaned prior to us moving in but if that was the case, I wouldn’t have the bottom of my feet turn brown from the dirt on the carpet by the end of the day.

There’s lots more that’s petty bullshit but what we’re currently dealing with is our deposit checks. One is for our security deposit and the other is because we paid up until July 15th to give us more time to find a home but were completely moved out on the 5th.

Since we’re no strangers to moving so much, we calculate that since we moved out on the 5th, she would have until August 5th to pay us. But she insisted that since we wanted to extend our stay until the 15th, even though we didn’t stay that long and never had a written agreement, that she had until August 15th to pay us what amount to $2,500. We said fine like we have several times prior because she’s a psycho and we didn’t want to piss her off which would make bigger issues with her.

The hubby and I joked that just to be a bitch, she probably would even send the check until it was postmarked on the 15th, even though I felt it was due 10 days earlier.

Ms. C u n t y Mc Cuntster didn’t send the check until the 17th and it arrived to us on the 18th. That seemed like such a bitch move especially since she knew we were waiting for that chunk of cash.

The next day, the hubby and I got to Target for some things when out of nowhere he says he has to go to the car to make a phone call. I just assumed it was a work thing but he eventually comes back in while fuming. My husband doesn’t fume. He rarely gets anger and he’s as cool as a cucumber which can help tame my high anxiety.

He told me that Psycho had really pissed him off. My stomach sank and I couldn’t imagine what it could be. I had been telling him that I’ve been having a gut feeling she isn’t going to make this move out easy on us and will try and fuck us in some way.

And she sure did! She had emailed my husband and said while she was checking up on the utilities to see that they were all paid up (wtf? I’ve never had a landlord do that) and she found that morning that we have a sewer bill due for $71.40 and she will reissue our checks for the deposit and rent only after we show her proof that the bill is paid. She also said she was going to take the stop payment charges out of our money.

One… it we owe money on a bill, it was a complete oversight on our part and told her we accept that. We did find out that we owed it and paid for it promptly. We had just never received a bill. We also showed her proof of the payment but she’s been ignoring us and won’t answer her phone whenever we call.

Two… what the fuck, lady? She’s putting a stop payment on both checks when this bill has nothing to do with her. She wants proof that we pay it? And she wants confirmation from the sewer department after it’s paid by having someone from the department confirm it to her?

It’s pretty ironic that it’s the sewer department since she’s a piece of shit. Thankfully, my husband found that with Maine law, the landlord can’t keep any portion of the security deposit if it’s anytime after the date it was due, which was the 15th. We got it three days later. So, she fucked herself there.

Also, even though it’s in her lease about this very issue, the law says it overrides what the leaser says.

Either way, she finally fucked up but we haven’t heard from her since Friday evening. The law also states she has to give us the checks within 7 days or else she has to pay us double the amount she owes us. Go, Maine law! It seems so easy peasy. Just write a new check and send it out ASAP, or reverse the stop payment on the security deposit check.

But, I have a feeling with her being a lawyer, she’s going to fuck with us some more first since she’s been using so many loopholes for everything that she’s been fucking us over with this past year.

All I know is I actually had a celebration with tequila once we finally received those checks because it meant we never have to deal with the psycho again. But now, we’re still tied to her by this money.

What a bitch.

Any landlord from hell stories?

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