Thanks but no thanks!

What has pushed me into this vat of violent negativity? What has shoved me over the edge where I could actually wish for something or someone physical harm and failure to boot?

It started with Corporate Amerika completely, utterly and absolutely not catering to the small pee-on customer that has been supporting this same shit fuck of a company for 20 years. Does a multi-billion dollar corporation care for someone of my stature that may buy a product every year? Of course not! I wonder if I was a company of similar status or say an event where I had some sort of name recognition where I could put the name of this company on a banner, I'm certain they would accommodate me. Since I am small time, "Hey man, sorry can't help you...You're welcome to buy something else!"

OK, this started the downward spiral of a bad mood. It is not the only thing making me want to pull the hair from my chin. After my bout with "big business" and losing, I went where everyone else goes, my Face Book page. I am sick of Face Book. Wait, I shouldn't say I am sick of it. I actually enjoy it, a lot. So in my state of "fuck the world!" I post something off color. Not a sympathy post but something to definitely evoke a response. As I begin to get lost on there as I have done over the summer I see more and more sympathy posts and pity parties. I am sick of this shit. It's driving me nuts to the point of not wanting to be on there anymore. My cousin started yelling about me because I post about drinking...a lot. One half of the time it is all fake, yes it is fake! The other half I write shit to be stupid. Did I really get a prostate exam on Sunday of all days? NO, I didn't get a prostate exam on last Sunday, at least I didn't get one by a doctor.

These pity status updates solely for the use of having other people write bullshit like "Hang in there kid" or "If I was there I'd give you a big hug!" or my personal favorite "It'll get better buddy!" is just flat out ridiculous. Give me a fucking break! Get over yourself. I don't want to know that you are having a colonoscopy or your great aunt on your cousins side's cat just had a kitten with three legs and you're SOOOOO sad! Fuck you and your sympathy seeking. You cannot make the argument to me that writing a status update meant to make people feel bad for you is therapeutic. It is self-serving. I am sick of it, and for now on if I see a sad update I am giving it thumbs up. I promise. The gloves are off. Put a sad sympathy seeking update on Face Book and whoever it is, my response will be "35goingon14 likes this!" Yes, for now on I like your misery.

It doesn't stop there. The people who respond to these dumb messages are just as bad because they reinforce them with their posts. If someone wants a pity party do what most other Americans do, get a quart of Ben and Jerry's and go to town on Cherry Garcia, watch Sleepless in Seattle and go to bed. I am sure you will get the same satisfaction that a sad status update will bring. Or better yet do what I do, find some poor tele-marketer to take it out on! Fucking with some poor schmuck in India is awesome. That always makes me feel better. Or maybe you could get off the computer and go exercise and listen to some really noisy music and get your pent up aggression out that way. In fact I am going to end this right now because I may start using names and burning bridges and I don't know if I am ready for that. Maybe after "big business" screws me again I will be but for now the names will go unspoken to protect the guilty.

Pondering this subject more deeply than I have originally thought I may be guilty of putting silly things on my page. Yes, they may be for a response but not one looking for pity. So if anyone disagrees with me, Fuck Off! It's a free country and I am entitled to my opinion even if it is as juvenile as they come.

So in retrospect Mr. Big Corporation, I will not accept your offer of mailing you my $175.00 pair of sunglasses and receiving a forty dollar credit.

Thanks but no thanks!

How did I get here?

I am outnumbered 5-1. Basically 10 ovaries 2 testicles. The Chosen One, the 2 little ones and the 2 female dogs to my two testis. Thats 10 -2 or 5-1 if you do the math and simplify!

That leaves me sitting here wondering how I got in this position. The Chosen One is away on business and I am left as the major caregiver, the guardian, the full time parent. This week has been quite easy and my current rant will not be that of a bitchy type or one to complain that I am responsible for my children for the time being. After all they are MY kids. I know when Deb gets back tomorrow afternoon the bingeing will resume and life will continue as easy and as peacefully as I know it and love it.

However I am cursed today with giving comfort and shelter and guidance to 4 screaming little girls. Both of my kids have friends over. One made the cut to sleep here tonight. So for this whole day I have had the pleasure of being around little women and all the problems that accompany 4 different female personas to coexist nicely so I can do what? Play the xbox.

I offered to take them to the pool and get outdoors for awhile but when I opened the door to their room you would think that they were looking at an alien or robot for the first time. I was greeted with four simultaneous screams that pierced my ear drums. They were so freaking loud I was surprised the cops didn't come thinking I was murdering someone or something. It's just me why are they freaking out like this? Anyway I left as quick as I could.

Now comes the hard part or babysitter part, I begin to get bombarded with questions like "Can we do make overs?" I said "Sure thats a great activity to pass the time." Once I had given it more thought I ran as fast as I could back to the room because something told me scissors and nail polish on the carpet were going to be involved. As sure as the sun sets both items where placed neatly nearby on like a doctors tray, in an almost eerie way where some 7 year old ritual or a "rite of passage" was about to take place. Thank God I got there in time cause that was a call I didn't want to make to the other parents involved. "Yea, I am the only one here...I know I look like a criminal but...I know I shouldn't let them play with scissors or nail polish or matches for that matter...yes I know I was wrong and I will pay for the haircut that needs to...yes she will need reconstruction on her hair. I am terribly sorry....you're coming now? OK. I understand." That is not the conversation I want to have, ever!

Shortly after this it was all too quiet in that room so I went in and I asked them what they were doing and they replied "...playing house!" I said "Excuse me? What?! You are playing house?" They simply responded with "...no, like we are caaamping." I said to myself, it can't be that bad, there are no boys in the house, at least I don't see them and they are just quietly hanging out. So I figured that quiet house/"caaamping" game was way better then them running around pissing me off. After all I have been very busy this summer doing a whole lot of nothing. I couldn't possibly bear the burden of taking care of four girls for a couple of hours.

Responsibility is a concept so foreign to me from June to the end of August. "As little as possible" is my motto. Although I am thinking of changing that motto after I saw a dude wearing a t-shirt stating a play on Lance Armstrong's popular slogan "Live Strong." We have all seen that but I have seen the the real message and it read "Live Drunk." So as of now I am changing my motto. I like that better. I wonder if I could go to work with that shirt. Would that be a good message for the kiddies I teach? They'd probably love it.

So I sit here with four girls in the house. 3 of them coming to Grandma's with me so I don't have to cook. 3 of them excited at the prospect they get to wear lipstick to this fancy shmancy shindig down the road. I am going to tell them they need to wear dresses. Lets make it legit. I of course enjoy my mother in laws company, especially when she cooks for me and the kids when The Chosen One is out on the town earning the big bucks. Wait, the term "out on the town earning the big bucks" didn't sound right but anyway she is away and I am here.

What a hypocrite! I almost complain that I have the responsibility to take care of these maniacs yet really nothing changes because I still have someone to cook for me and basically make sure certain needs are met. Should I be proud of this ability to have people want to help out or should I be ashamed because people feel I am almost incompetent? It is my own personal nightmare I deal with everyday. It almost keeps me up at night.

So I get the task of making sure these ladies are happy in my care and don't cringe at the sound that Mommy has to go out of town for an extended period of time. "Do what you want." Don't burn the house down." "Go outside and catch toads." "Come on you're in the way of the tv. I cant see!" "OH Allie, check this out, this guy gets knocked the f**k out!" These are words of instruction and guidance they get under my care. Yea babe, don't go out of town or this is what they get!

This is the thanks I get. I am rewarded with having the pleasure of taking care of these little ladies and make sure all is well for them while the boss lady is away. This is the thanks I get for trying to be a good person in maybe a past life or even my youth. Shit, at some point I thought I should be rewarded with some testosterone of some kind. Where is the football in the house on the floor? Where is the dirt bike? Where are the cleats? Where are the screams of agony when dad is kicking someone's ass? Maybe I will get to kick someone's ass when they start dating...Oh shit, that's not something I really want to think of. A .40 caliber Sig P229 with night sights and maybe an AR15 assault rifle will be readily available. That should deter any wrong doers.

The original question was "how did I get here?" What ever path I had taken to get I am thankful. The two young ladies I have here are really cool. The Chosen One is OK too but I will save that for another day!