YOU DON’T KNOW ME !

These colored bands, are earned by mothers, they hold knowledge and signify rank in Mother Martial Arts. beware.

Today I blew my cover in my super secret world wide Gang..   Damnit.   All because I ran in a store to grab my mom a treat.   I’m not Darkwing Duck, I am…  e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e.

Dear punk teenagers with the crotch of your pants lower than your knees, with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth and your shirt flung over your should showing off what might one day be a chest:

Visual Example:

if the stupid look is in this season you are freaking NAILING it !

if the stupid look is in this season you are freaking NAILING it !

The second I walked in, I saw panic in the poor elderly woman behind the counter. haven’t we all? I mean I’m sure in her day she didn’t see a mans ass crack and drawers until after dark on her wedding day, but I am forward, I’ve got kids, I am cool and down with it, I can totally bridge this culture gap of generations no problem, let me slip on my cape.

I walked closer and I hear her voice quivery with a mix of fear, with a dash of authority. I can’t quite make it out, she makes only brief eye contact with you and repeats her words, and tone. I get closer to the counter where each of you are on separate sides, like a courtroom or even a crazy dance scene from west side story might break out, and lucky me, woot woot, front row seats to this off off off off off Broadway production.

As I grow closer though, she glances at me, with fear and pleading in her eyes. I look over to sum you up again, and you have a lighter, and you are flicking it, your cheap ass lighter that’s grinding oddly on that crooked flint throwing a faint spark as you steadily flick flick flick flick.

Then out of the corner of your 14 or 15 year old mouth that isn’t holding a cigarette you are trying feverishly to light while standing across the counter from a lady working a restaurant. WOW,  NO FN WAY ?  I must have heard that wrong, surely your little boy butt did not just put vocal thrust behind the F^$* YOU! you just spewed at this elderly lady working.

Now I hear and see, she is saying, ” no smoking, no smoking, you can’t smoke here, please leave, no it’s illegal, please please just leave me. English isn’t her first language, she may speak it fine normally but maybe her being so scared and upset is making it choppy, but not to choppy to misunderstand the meaning, and I certainly understand smart ass teen, and what you said to that lady was wrong.

I stood back, waiting, to see if you 2 human beings from such different times, who have had such different lives can come together to communicate, without any escalation. I mean honey please, your tennis shoes and watch probably cost more than this ladies car, and I’m quite sure your comfy little “pseudo” hard life was  obviously way worse than whatever this woman went thru 50 years ago in another country she left to move to this one full of strangers,  strange language,  crossing an ocean to bust her ass to work in the food industry and be intimidated and cussed by a little spoiled puke poser like you.

Uhm no. You can’t. because in walked your 2 little spoiled punk boyfriends. with your shirts off, and your pants around your ankles which pretty much ensures no matter my current physical state of health I can disable each of you with little effort as basically you have tied your ankles together.. genius move dorks..

I tried, I did. I honestly tried to stay out of it. But my mom really really really wanted a food item from this location, and since even though I am an adult I do want to see my mom smile I had left her in the car while I ran in to grab what she wanted. I wanted to be some sort of bridge for you to to communicate across.  DAMN YOU !  I already had my stupid cape on and now, I have to step in.

Sadly, I left my “little prick to English dictionary” in the car. So when your little boyfriends came in, holding their regions that might one day turn into a gender, and you yelled, ” F &^% YOU, followed by a racial slur as you made another round of attempts to light your cigarette, I remembered I may not speak little prick, but I speak mom.

So son, when the fat old white lady in capris and flip flops with her hair in a clip who looks like every other old white soccer mom on the planet reached up and slapped that cigarette out of your mouth today, I saw you recoil in fear, I understand when your little boyfriend bowed up like he forgot his common sense at home in his upper middle class 2 parents home with a landscaped yard and thought he was going to run his mouth in my direction, yeah yeah I stepped at him, and used my best loudest, out door  MOM voice to scream while pointing. ” BOY DON”T YOU DREAM IT!! I KNOW YOUR MOMMA !! I WILL KNOCK YOUR SMART MOUTH INTO NEVERLAND IF YOU DON”T STRAIGHTEN UP AND GET OUT NOW ! in that split second dumbass 3 took off as fast as he could possibly waddle with his pants around his ankles towards the door, dumb ass 2 started backing himself toward the door like a duck backing away from a croc, and you, you I never broke eye contact as I growled, ” DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? you blinked, I had you.

I had you, and I made you apologize, I made you throw away your ILLEGAL smokes and lighter, and I made you pull up your pants and walk out.   Of course you do NOT know who I am,  for I come in many forms.

Here’s the deal my little friend. Those of us “old ladies” you think you strike fear in? Baby boy, we been playing this game so long, we can flip it like a light switch.. Do you doubt me? Find any mom in the stands at her kids sports game, she will come completely OFF THE DAMN chain over a bad call by the ref. That mom, yeah that’s the same mom, that by one look and without saying a word can make your grown father cower off to the pantry to empty the trash.

There are ways to spot us. We keep our pants pulled up. often our hair too. we wear gang related clothing, often it’s like capris or yoga pants with a hair band around our wrist, you come across a mom with more than one hair band on her wrist? you are doomed, they are like belts in martial arts. Just quietly, and respectfully back the hell away. Of course you don’t know who I am son, because I am ” every mom ” the mom you thought was at work, or at home or busy, and trusted you and your little friends to go walking a strip mall while she got a pedicure. I am the shadow in the closet, I am the cop at the door, I am the glass of water that braves the dark at 2am when you were too scared to speak.  I am the Doctor who nursed your wounds, the Teacher that helped you sing the ABC’s.  I am the mother in labor, and the mother who keeps selected baby baby clothes in a keepsake box.  I am the Judge, the Jury, and I poses a pair of eyes in the back of my head I allow your mother to channel.  I will watch your precious little ass for her, if her eyes aren’t near.  If she has misplaced trust in you, I will point out kindly how you are tying the damn rope around your neck yourself.   I have faith that any mother of any child who was trying to play big bad ass criminal man, and scaring an old lady today,  would have knocked the shit out of you so hard you would be back in diapers.  If  I am wrong about your mom,  if.  IF.  If I am wrong and your mom thinks it’s fine for her little boy half naked to have ciggerettes, a dirty mouth, break laws and treat another human like trash,  well then son, you need me more than you will ever know, and I’m sorry that your mom wants to be your friend more than she wants you to be a good person.  Just remember..   We are a world wide network,  we are trained,  you wont ever know who is watching.  So don’t be a little shit.  m’kay?

Love Always !

PEACH OUT

Stupid-Expert Level

damnstupid

And then the stupid rained down upon mankind….   and they danced in it, and smiled, and stomped upon common sense until it was missing from the Earth.

Enjoy this chat transcript with a nation wide cell phone company.

Please wait while we connect you to a representative.
You have been connected to an idiot.
wood:  Hi, Barb! How may I assist you today?
Barb:  I am logged in to my account , but I can’t find my balance.
wood:  I can certainly understand your concern and I will be more than happy to assist you today :-)
Barb: _____63
wood:  For me to discuss the account, please verify the last 4 digits of the social security number, date of birth and the email address…
Barb:  dec _____ is my birthday
wood:  I am sorry?
Barb:  email is _________.com
Barb:  _____ is my last
wood:  Thank you very much for using the chat option for your question and concerns, feel free to come back in the chat room and we will be more then happy to assist you.
wood:  Thank you for verifying your account, please give me one moment to access and review…
wood:  Thank you for verifying your account, please give me one moment to access and review…
Barb: I am logged onto the website in my account but no where does it say what my balance is.
wood:  I do understand !
wood:  YOur account balance is $1 you will need to make a payment of $24 before 04/18
Barb:  OH k
wood:  .
wood:  Yes!
Barb:   that makes sense. 
wood:  I , do understand.
wood:  There is a ).00 balance on the other line of ___3 and it must be paid by 04/18 as well .
wood:  Ok!
Barb:  where do I go to see that part of my account
wood:  Is there anything else I can help you with today?
wood:  You will need to be signed in as a primary account.
Barb:  yep same question as first one, how do i find the part of my account that has minutes and $
wood:  For security reasons we can not change this over WEB .
Barb:  oh no… so they put ______93 as the primary
wood:  No, the online account is set up as secondary on both.
wood:  You can contact Customer Service by calling 1-8WESUCK or *611 on your mobile phone and they can help you with that.
Barb:  wait a minute? I am logged in, for MY SECURITY I already gave you my bday my social and my email. I doubt seriously you telling me where the hell that part of my account is is more dangerious
wood:  The accounts need to be set up as a primary account to view.
Barb:  what?
Barb:  what is this mess
wood:  I am happy to help you but would appreciate it if you wouldn’t use offensive language during the chat.
Barb:  I bought 2 of them together ______3 and ______3
Barb:  hell is a location
wood:  It is also offensive language.
Barb:  I was born before ww2 buttercup, I gave you all my private info now you can tell me where to find MY info
wood:  Further offensive language will result in the termination of this session.
Barb:  oh my
Barb:  ok
wood:  The online accounts are set up as secondary.
wood:  This means that only limited information is available,
Barb:  you need to go ahead and get a supervisor and ask them to please come tell me how to get to the part of my website that shows my balance, I deserve that. I pay you.
wood:  The account needs to be set up as primary to view extensive information.
Barb:  my account balance is not ektensive
Barb:  that’s where i pay
wood:  For privacy reasons, we are not able to set the account primary through the WEB Chat channel.
Barb:  you mad eme give you my social
Barb:  my email
wood:  You may Contact Customer Care or visit the local store.
Barb:  and my birthday on this chat
Barb:  how is adding money to an account a security risk? that is insane
wood:  Yes that is correct as I have went over the account with you.
Barb:  and not answered how I find my balance and to add money to it
Barb:  since I’ve done on line before I know I can
wood:  Yes, in order to view the balance and make payments on the account the account must be set up primary.
Barb:  if this chat isn’t secure enough for you “assistance” to tell me where my account is. then why is safe enough for my social and dob
wood:  My apologies for any incovience this may cause, however this is for the security of the account holder,.
Barb:  I’m the accoutn holder and you MADE me give you my social and date of birth on this chat? what part of insane does this “rule” come from
wood:  Yes, we must verify the account to go over any information on the account.
Barb:  but you can’t tell me what button to click on your website to see my account because of security itssues?
Barb:  oh my, no wonder our country is headed to the toilet, no common sense and full of shit.. which is not a location but an actual offensive word which is what it is intended to be
Barb:  good bye

and then I banged my head in a car door until it all made sense..  I think I saw Barb in the parking lot doing the same…

 

 

xo

xo

I will love you forever.. Happy Birthday Dustin.

My Oldest Son Dusty when he was 8

Happy Birthday my little Boy.

Today you are 22.  I can’t touch you, hug you, or draw you a card.  I can’t hear your voice or subject you to listening to my off key loud version of Happy Birthday.  I haven’t seen you in just short of a year again.  Last time I saw you, you were thinner, smaller, and still very angry with the 21 years of pain where I couldn’t make it better.

 

We all love you and miss you so much.  Your little brother cries for you sometimes,  I hug him and try to make a joke, we talk about how you could be surfing or skateboarding in California.  Once he smiles, and moves on,  I store away the pain he felt in missing you, in my heart right next to where I keep mine.   My daily life now, is really nothing more than existence.   for 25 years I was a MOM.  That’s such a big word isn’t it darling.  MOM.  I made sure to do ALL mom things, and most definitely ALL of them the right way.  I didn’t draw a breath that wasn’t used to power the MOM.   My mistakes, my temper, my impatience, my ridiculous level of how things had to be.   Nothing…   They  were all NOTHING.

 

This world and this you and me thing.  It’s just so impossible.   Why ?   Honey,  Why the hell can we not get along.  Me to bend and you to calm and just love.  Even if from a distance.  Only when it’s safe for you.  Only on topics that are safe for us.  Your rules. Just like your sister.    I don’t push in on her life.  I stay back, and am here when she needs, and I still make her mad and hurt her feelings even though I try to very hard to monitor my every interaction.     I would be so grateful if I could at least have that with you too.     I don’t agree with everything you do.  I’m not supposed to.  I’m your mom.   But I promise to curb my constant and chornic advice if you can promise to curb your temper.  Can we meet somewhere it doesn’t even have to be the middle.

 

I drag myself through day to day,  at this time of year I could probably go out in public and people would appreciate my zombie like movements and blank emotions.  I have to tuck it all away.  Smile, nod, be funny, listen, care.   Damn it baby,  WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU ????     Can’t you get to a library and email me?     Steal a damn phone and text me?    Get arrested and have them call me?  something…  it’s your BIRTHDAY.    I just want to tell you Happy Birthday…   I want to hear you. Even if you scream at me.

What am I doing?  This is your birthday.  I will use one of the adorable old pictures of pictures from one of the other posts of you.  Your adorable beautiful, gorgeous pictures that are to this day in every room of this run down, horribly empty, run down shell of a version of my dream home.  Your silly birthdays with my always silly Halloween cakes I made for you each year.   Remember the year I forgot the candles?  ME?  OMG. yeah and I had to use those big fat emergency candles  hahaha,  that year you had a Dracula cake, and I stuck a huge fat ugly white candle on his face as a nose.  You loved it.   But you know what.  I had tried to place the emergency candle on the bottom of the cake instead of in the middle of his face but it looks like huge white vampire penis,  so I put it in his face.  Makes sense right?   I mean.  Obviously  I was the perfect Mom.  Not.

I’m not sure if I ever told you, but you, your PawPaw and Your Great Great Grandmother Kate were all born within 6 days of each other..    I am going to write down my memories of her, because well, everyone that knew her has passed away.  So if anyone is going to know a damn thing about her I better get it written down.  She played piano in the silent movie theaters, and had incredibly long silver hair she wore in a bun every day.  She had a picture of  the stereotypical white blonde haired blue eyed Jesus at a door in a garden with flowers and “light” that hung behind her couch.  She was Walt Whitmans cousin and I have some letters and school books of theirs in the curio cabinet.  Do you know who Walt is?  Have you read anything by him?   Are you ok? Are you safe?  Are you eating?  Are you warm?   I could really give 2 shits less about Walt Whitman or a blue eyed Jesus.  Honey.  I’m so sorry you didn’t get the mom you needed,  please be ok,  please be happy.   If hating me fuels you to do better and be happy than please for the love of god hate with me all your strength.

I have no clue what I am doing here.  Like everything else I write to you facebook, texts, or posts here.   You wont ever see it.   The fact that I have left this place so empty and unused for nearly 2 years pretty much assures me no one will see it and honestly I think that makes all this much easier to write.   SHIT.   If you did see this.  How shitty is it that I turned your birthday into an “all about me” type thing?  right?   I’m telling you dude, you and your sister really drew the short stick when it came to sound  parenting.   She’s been using that degree in psychology for a couple years now,   I wish you and her could get together and laugh and talk about your screwed up childhoods were with a whacked out mom.  See.  I would rather have you two be close, or at least amicable,  because when it comes down to brass tacks, family is all you have.    I hope that one day she can move past, and you can move forward and you 2 can at least like each other.  Also, I know you are very literal,  so disregard the “brass tacks” comment,   I do NOT want ANY tacks involved with any communications between you and your sister if there ever is any.

 

Shit. See.  here I sit in the dark, purposely removed from everything that is the world today.  Crying,  ugly cry.  My nose weighs 10 tons. My head is pounding, obviously there’s some pressure issues going on.

Snot dripping down my face, too lazy to even get kleenex because I have to get this out of my head out of my heart.   Snot on my shirt. snot on my arm. I grabbed a roll of toilet paper and my bed is now covered with little white fluffy balls containing snot.

I will have to shower now, and put on clean clothes, maybe when my eyes stop stinging.    The toilet paper balls of snot are disgusting.   Remember how you always got spontaneous nose bleeds?   GROSS.  The Dr’s were like, ” Oh that’s nothing”…   dude,  would it not be awesome if we would have been cool enough to say something like, ” yes every time he uses his psychic abilities his nose bleeds”  ahahah… Lord knows son, you were messing with the minds of the highly educated Doctors as a hobby for a very long time before I caught on.   Looking back.  Kudos my boy.  I appreciate your stellar sense of humor in an act of  protest.

Everyone says, Alex is just like your dad, and Sam is just like me…   Sam’s pretty awesome, with all those degrees and steady job and good credit, and not falling in and out of love every time the wind blows.   When you look at it like that, she’s not at all like me is she?   I mean.   You.  you pick up and take off where the wind blows you, you see what you want to see and when you want to see,  you do things that make you happy on a primal level,  good,  bag or illegal.  You self medicate, and are the focus of every party, people instantly love your charm and enjoy your company and you either sore with the eagles or your crash to earth with endless internal pain…   Hell honey,  it sure sounds a lot like you are just like me.  Not the me that everyone knows now, or the me that everyone thinks I am.  that was the me was before I got all serious and became a MOM.  yeah.  So maybe when I was trying so hard all these years to fix all your mistakes and all the things wrong or broken with you, I was really just trying to go back and fix all the broken shit about me.    Either way, we both ended up broken..    but it’s only YOUR birthday, so please find a way to let me know you are ok..

It’s good that I am alone.  the audible guttural sobbing noises are making the dogs bark at the doors, I should let them in and clean myself up and go back to pretending I’m ok.  You’re ok.  It’s ok.

 

Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Dustin…   Happy Birthday to you.. I will never stop loving you.

 

 

xoxo

Mom Out.

 

Previous Post in regards to “The Dude”

March 2012 –  Is this living it only feels like waiting.             or            May 2011- Covering the scars of a failed Mom.                   and

May 2010-  The 3 part extremely person and brutally honest  series about a beautiful little boy.  

Nice try kid.

I never saw a wildthing sorry for itself

There I was, snuggled into my bed. Pitch dark in the wonderfully silent house.  Surrounded by the 8 pillows and my own especially soft comforter.  Sleeping.  That’s how I roll.

Tap Tap –  “mom”

OMG OMG I”m up what’s wrong OMG !!!    I fling myself out of the bed and assume the stance of a warrior about to enter the coliseum and my blood is  coursing threw my veins  at speeds comparative to a fire hose at a 5 alarm fire.

My darling little Prince, the youngest of 3, and the only child not legally old enough to buy booze,  the only child under my roof.  The perfect little sweethearted, genius,  handsome Prince.  Was standing there,  with a little itty bitty piece of paper no bigger than the fortune out of a cookie.

ThePrince-   Mom can you sign your name on this?

Me:  Realizing I didn’t need to wrestler an ax murderer out of my house, one eye drooped back closed and I relaxed a bit.

The Prince:  Mom,   hey Mom,  hey can you sign this please.

Me:  holds out hand and  I realize he has provided me with a tiny ripped on all 4 sides piece of paper the size of a fortune cookie.
Sirens go off,   WHOOOT WHOOT Parenting red alert,  WHOOT  WHOOT.  All hands on deck.

I bail out of bed, the one drooped closed eye has now turned into the  single raised eyebrow side eye of a mother smelling something not quite right.

We get in the living room.

Me: why do you need me to sign that tiny piece of blank paper?

The Prince:   Oh we are going to practicing signing our names today and I wanted to see what yours looks like.

WHOOOT WHOOT Parenting red alert,  WHOOT  WHOOT.  The mothering LIE detector is glaring with sirens and flashing red lights.

This is  where I look at my darling baby boy that I adore, and say,   ” really?  really?   I mean seriously dude,  please tell me exactly how stupid you think I am?”

His single functioning brain cell was working well enough to  NOT to answer that.   He proceeded with textbook child maneuver #17.  Deer in the headlights.  It’s hard to believe he wasn’t on the red carpet for his performance,  I think he managed to tear up a bit  as he looked at me as if I had just ran him threw with a blunt sword.  The OSCAR for best performance of a preteen attempting to look innocent goes to………..

Me:  Ok, here’s the deal,  I KNOW, that there is more too this,  look at me with your mouth hanging open all you want.   You need to cough up whateverthehell  you need me to sign that you don’t want me to see.

Him:  trying to work a tear out of at least one eye ball,  mouth agape as if I just testified against him in court.

Me:  Let me make this easy for you.   HAND ME THE DAMN THING YOU DON’T WANT ME TO KNOW ABOUT,  or we will stand here until you miss the bus,  and then I will ride YOUR bike in MY pajamas  right behind you as you walk to school, down the highway and into your office  and DEMAND to know what kind of crap you are in trouble for.

Him:  uhm  Mom.

Me:  You screwed up, first by whatever is in the note you don’t want me to see,  second and even more importantly you TRIED TO LIE AND TRICK ME!  Come clean NOW.

If you don’t know anything about the Prince let me fill you in on why this is actually worthy of a post.    Here is where he won the overall for his school and went to regionals in the science fair 2 years ago.

Safety is NO Yolk.

The Prince winning the over all for his school and the physics regional science fair award 2011 9 years old.

and here he is at the Regional Science fair the next year, after placing in the district.

 

Let it slide Science Fair Project

The Prince at the Regional Science and Physics in 2012, after placing in the District.

 

OH yeah and he has his own youtube account where he does experiments and other cool stuff including him using his GIANT telescope in the middle of the night to watch activity in the ski.   He’s never been in trouble at school, he plays baseball, and goes to MMA,  He did a crazy insect collection and even a model project on the solar system WHICH WERE NOT EVEN SCHOOL ASSIGNMENTS.  yeah you heard me.  FOR THE FUN OF IT.  I know right? Probably switched at birth or something.   Just yesterday afternoon he called me to let me know one of the little guys on the bus a Kindergartner didn’t have anyone waiting for him at the bus stop ( which they do every day) ,  so he called me to let me know he was walking little man home.  Sweet, right?  Yeah I know… Cuteness factor,  way way off the scale.

and finally here is the actual note he coughed up just moments before I went all Kung foo cray cray on the child.

 

torn parent note

seems legit?

Oh yeah, I can totally see the teacher getting this and saying to herself.  ” Seems legit dude”.   NOT.

Really?   So I signed on a NON ripped area of the note, included my phone number and email.   Then I told him that I hoped he realized what this meant,  and that I was going to rain down on him like a parenting hail storm when he got home from school.   Then I hugged him and told him I loved him and to have a great day.   He looked a little worried.  I don’t know why.

Even though I applaud the absolute MAMMOTH balls it takes to try to pull this off,  I am astounded in the lack of effort put forth in this scam.  I mean really?  This is like elementary level kid lie.  He’s in middle school,  he needs to step up his game.   So while he is at school where I am sure he is attempting his most epic performance with the teacher as to why the note is ripped like this.  I will be pumping up my creative mom skills.    Dusting off my psychological parenting warfare skills that I really haven’t needed  for several years since The Prince is so..  well Princely.    I even called his big sister, the one with all the degrees in psychology because she said after being raised by me it was pretty much as easy as tying a shoe.

His dad the Droid was visibly shaken by the entire experience, clearly he has no memory of the older 2 children being younger.   This could actually go down in my husbands life as the “WORST DAY EVER!”   like Armageddon.   I mean he didn’t actually get out of bed to be a part of this entire thing,  but when it was all over he was getting ready for JURY DUTY ( hahaha not me LOL),   He looked as if the HULK had kicked him in his loins.

There are several issues here. He didn’t do what he was supposed to do in class.   It’s SCIENCE for crying out loud, seriously dude?  Over school break we actually  helped the Stunt kid ( our nephew)   with HIS science project,  HERE in our HOUSE and I kept asking the Prince to do one, for the fun of it, just in case.  He was adamant that he didn’t need to.   Then he attempted to fool me with this pathetic half assed  premeditated scheme.   Then he lied, about the signature, and lied by exclusion by failing to come forth without being cornered.

Well that’s it.  That’s the post, and while my husband is probably walking around  with his soul ripped out.  I am happily planning the extended “lesson” for my darling little Prince,  which I am sure will include some baseboard cleaning,  most hated foods, and being completely an utterly unplugged from the universe for the first time in his life.    Because around here,  when you make such an epic mistake,  this place sort of turns into Hell Week  of Seal Training.

I have to go now,  I need to pick up some liver and cauliflower for his dinner.

 

XO

PEACH OUT

Customer Service

milton

Dear Service Providers of the Universe,

 

I have compiled a list of things to help you out with that all elusive things called common sense.  I am super nice like that..

 

1- please do not have a recording tell me repeatedly that I can do everything on your awesome website, I am familiar with the concept of the internet, I am also quite familiar with that broken down shit you call a website. Your systems are jacked up, the only time your systems ever work is when it’s a new customer, it’s as if you have a cookie for anyone that has ever been to your crappy site that makes darn sure once they purchase something it will never work for them again. Also if you are my internet provider and you refer me to your website and my internet is not working, chances are I can’t see your damn website because the internet service you provide sucks nearly as much as your website.

2- Your HR department needs a few basic pointers. When hiring people to answer phones and verbally interact with other humans beings and more precisely human beings in the united states speaking English without use of hand gestures should be one of your goals. I can not see the person on the other end of the phone who is probably making hand gestures to help his pigeon English, in addition I can’t draw him a picture to help him understand my situation. Maybe your interviews for these positions should be done VIA PHONE that would give you a taste of what we get when we call.

 

3- Chain of Command- when the first human voice that speaks to me does not provide me with adequate service and I request a supervisor, and they in turn tell me they ARE the supervisor. I know they are lying. Even if they happen to be supervising that particular phone, I am quite sure they didn’t hire themselves, they don’t hold meetings with themselves and don’t write their own paychecks. When I ask for their supervisor and they say they are THE supervisor I will assume their last name is indeed the Company name and I will refer to them as Mr ATT or Mrs Direct TV or Miss Verizon, if they hang up, I will continue to call back asking for them, because honestly when I reach this point, I have nothing better to do and I have a penchant for being over focused once I am pissed off.

4- I take notes. After I have waited and listened to 2 hours of your recordings pushing buttons and trying to talk like a robot. When an actual human comes on the line, and says their name I write it down,  along with anything that person says. I know it’s a crazy habit of mine, but it allows me to call you back the next month and quote the entire conversation and facts verbatim. I understand that your computer version of my account shows that I called on the same date as I am saying but contains no notes that is what we call in the real world, “YOUR PROBLEM”. At this point I did your job, I have a record of it, and that’s what we will be using since YOUR people failed to do their dismal depressing job.

5- Company Morale- Maybe you should search their coffin of a cubicle and remove any distractions and sharp objects. I know if I worked with you guys I wouldn’t last long with out wanting to off myself via a sharpie to the eyeball. They always sound as if I interrupted them from googling “how to make your own hangman’s noose” when they get on line. If I am not mistaken, their job is to answer the phone and talk to the customer, could you possibly remind them of that, maybe an illustration would help, keep it simple use smiley faces and bright colors it could help.

6- Authorized person- like many marriages in this country, I handle a lot of things regarding our home and family. When I call you, and go through the process of pushing buttons for an hour to weed my way through your labyrinth of options and verification, provide every single detail, account number, name, age, dob, social security number, address, email, pin number, bra size, location of birth marks, name of the first pet, crush and car, the paternal great grandfathers second wife  maiden name, and finally reach a human. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND COUNTRY do NOT tell me I am not authorized on the account. If you do, I will have my husband call you and say, ” why are you billing me???? I never signed up for this service?? I have no clue who Sandi is?? That person is not authorized to put service in my name??? because at this point, I will harass him until he will do that,. see the last sentence of item #3

 

xoxo

PEACH OUT

 

cc:  ATT, Verizon, Direct TV, Dish TV, Cable One, GTE, Wells Fargo,  and every bank and power company I have ever dealt with.  I encourage readers to go ahead and forward this to the service provider of their choice that might need this valuable information.

 

TwongBall- Parting is such sweet sorrow..

treats3

This morning as I fumbled my beaten keyboard with my still sleeping fingers I was smacked in the face with news that opened a floodgate of memories.

“RIP TWINKIES- HOSTESS CAKES NO MORE”

I was probably in shock, but instantly an entire lifetime flashed before my eyes.   Remembering Ding Dongs, SnoBalls, Twinkies and the likes as a child, as a teen, then sharing the joy of the very first Hostess cake experience with each of my children as they grew.  Some might think it’s sad that a decadent treat can illicit this type of emotional stroll down memory lane.  But inevitably, food, smells and music are all capable of this, they are basic sensory reactions.

 

Being a baker/chocolatier type person I did the only completely il logical thing I could do.

I ran to the kitchen.

Chocolate Treats

These are indeed 2 Die 4

 

My intentions were never to attempt to sully the memory of  any of the unimaginably perfect ( indestructible) delights that speckle the memories of my past.  Instead to create something easy, fast, and to serve as my personal homage to Hostess and the yums they have induced over the years.

 

I don’t usually share my recipes, and honestly not very many people would want to go through the trouble of raising their own bread fed chickens for the fresh eggs, or churning the butter from the fresh cream from a local dairy farm.  But I will share with you the altered quick and easy recipe so that anyone, anywhere at anytime can quickly recreate this treat as long as they promise to remember their first bite of a Twinkie, SnoBall or Ding Dong.

 

So without further ado, my tribute to Hostess  I will call the TwongBall.  ( unless yall can come up with a better name using a combination of the best known Hostess products, and I really hope you can because I’m not sold on TwongBall.  )

Quick and Easy anytime/anybody/any skill recipe-

Need-

Wax paper, 2 bowls, cookie sheet 3 spoons

Ingredients-

1 bag of excellent quality milk chocolates-  ( I would recommend Ghiradelli Milk Chocolate Chips- available anywhere.)

1 bag of caramel squares

1 box of Shortbread cookies ( I would recommend Lorne Doon, available anywhere)

2 Tblspns peanut butter

Directions-

Unwrap 6 or 7 caramel squares and place in 1 microwavable bowl

Place approximately 1/2 a bag of Ghiradelli Milk Chocolate Chips in a separate microwavable bowl

Place roughly 2 tbsp of Peanut butter in your third bowl

Cover your cookie sheet with wax paper, and open your cookie and place to the side

1- Put your caramel squares in the microwave for 10 seconds, stir,  and microwave 5 more seconds.  Remove melted caramel and spread onto 1 side of your shortbread cookie, place them to the side.

2-Melt your bowl of chocolate chips in your microwave using 15 second bursts of heat.  Between each 15 second round, completely stir and mix the chocolate so one area is not overheated,  if possible use a glass bowl and a plastic spoon.  Stop heating when you are able to see a creamy smooth chocolate with only 2 -5 chip lumps in the shiny mix.  They will melt in as you stir.

3- Using your spoon,  make a square that’s slightly bigger than the size of your shortbread cookie with a layer of the melted chocolate, then place your shortbread cookies caramel side down into the squares of chocolate.

4- place in freezer for 3 minutes or fridge for 7

5- with the plain side of your shortbread cookie facing up cover the plain surface of your cookie with a thin layer of peanut butter as it lays in the chocolate square you already made.

6- place the cookie sheet in freezer for 3 minutes or fridge for 7

7- Add more chocolate chips to your chocolate bowl, and reheat in 15 second intervals until you reach a good consistency.

8-Spoon a layer of melted chocolate over each square  making sure the fresh melted chocolate goes down the sides and touches the now set, cold, chocolate base.

9- place in freezer for 3 minutes or fridge for 5.

Once they are set, leave them out at room temperature to become nice and yummy.  ( frozen chocolate and caramel are a bit hard to chew).

Nothing left to do except enjoy.    If peanut butter cups and twix had a love child, this would be it.  Quick easy no baking, no cutting, no serving.

Much respect to Hostess who made sure that even if our Mom’s, Aunts, or Grannies couldn’t cook we were still able to enjoy a delicious baked good anywhere in America.

 

xo

PEACH OUT.

never ever light your farts on fire here is why…

smuggling cats to cold war russia

Hello you incredibly good looking obviously brilliant people.  Yeah you, sitting there in your stained t-shirt  2 socks that don’t match and some kickin bedhead, you too, being comfy is HAWT !   I know from the massive piles of emails that some of you really really miss my 5 day a week blogging here at BeingPeachy and just can barely breath without me,  Mom, seriously stop emailing me about it.   But so many things have come up, like entire seasons of shows I haven’t seen before on netflix and hulu.  I kid I kid, there were only a few and they were all missing one or 2 key episodes.   Yes I haven’t blogged as much here, and yes I haven’t done “THE TWITTER” hardly at all,  but dear lovely friends I have stayed true to facebook, I am there, find me, join in.  Just don’t ask me to send you a cow or plant a tree or join a sorority or your mafia/mob and no I don’t have a clue what a throne is other than what a royal ass plunks upon.   So now I have covered all that jazz and we are off to the races.

I have had several friends and family recently talk to me about their kids, not like, ” OMG my kid pooped!”, ( they know better)  but like, ” uhm I think my kid may be turning into an asshat”   or  ” little Jimmy is really upset that we weren’t able to get on the top of the wait list for the new Iamspoiled 9,  so he dropped kicked his OLD ibrat 8 he got when it was released five weeks ago with his  Carlos SantChoo GucPrada shoes and it accidentally slipped off his foot which smashed that 60×60 frame of the photo we have of him on the beach in white in Brazil for his 6th birthday 3 weeks ago.  But I wasn’t mad because that frame was the wrong shade/gloss of gold anyway and completely clashed with the platinum theme I am going with.”     OK..   those aren’t exactly what people have said, but honestly they may as well have, because that’s what I hear.  Now before anyone get’s every level of offended because they are giving their children what they didn’t have and blah blah blah,  yadda yadda,  I hear ya, I feel ya, every parent wants that, but maybe just maybe,  sometimes they should have a little of what their parents did,  humble pie it’s as essential to growing up as milk, air, and breaking rules.

I’m not judging anyone.  Why?  Well if you know me, I am FAR FAR FAR away donkey from being any kind of parenting role model and I am the very first to admit it.  My kids have done more jacked up stuff than a Quickie Lube,  hopefully they learn from it.  I admit to my kids every time I open my mouth that I don’t have all the answers I never will, and I am human, I will make mistakes, accidents and poor choices, and I expect the same from them.   But the one thing they can count on is me being there  screaming,  ” what the hell are you thinking????    didn’t I tell you about the time I got busted smuggling kittens in from India to sell to the Russians during the cold war?  yeah well that’s EXACTLY how that entire thing all started,  I seriously hope you know Russian half as well as I do if you intend on making these type of decisions.”   I then usually sit there, stone faced, waiting, until I dramatically throw my hands in the air and stomp off muttering about consequences and how hard it is to get toilet paper in foreign prisons.    My children, the loves of my life,  my brilliant  adorable, obviously superior children have all SCREWED UP.  They will, because they are from me, and if I sit back and pretend that I am always right ( which I do not ever do ever, under no circumstance hand to cheeses I swear on the entire Lord of the Rings series, stick a needle in my eye, I am so lying right now congrats if you are still here to see me admit that)  then they will do one of 2 things.

1- either assume they can never live up to me and go ahead and pierce their retina and have their feet surgically webbed to show me how they have no intentions of even ever trying,  or  2- consistently attempt to live up to some higher than though standard, and hide things from me, from others and themselves and be so afraid of failure that they would rather fling themselves onto a flaming spork than admit a mistake.   So I bare my flaws, even if they are dramatically rendered for enhanced learning and viewing pleasure.

 

So sometimes it’s as simple as explaining to your 11 year old son why it is completely unacceptable to break up with a girl via a text message when that’s the only type of conversation they have ever had.    Sometimes it’s reassuring your daughter that she is an amazing human being you are proud to know and absolutely profoundly confused how a screw up like yourself could produce someone with her moral and social code because if in her situation you would have taken a sabbatical to screw businessmen in Greece and classified it as a “learning experience” while trying to get a student loan to fund it.   Sometimes it’s as hard as realizing that your kid, no matter how you tried, is just, an ass.  You can reflect on all the things you could have done different,  if there were signs, flags, blinking lights and people flat out telling you your kid is an ass.

None of it matters, you can’t turn back time, and you can only mold those little brains and souls so much no matter how much Baby Einstien wants to tell you differently    EACH of us are different  your children may come from you but they are NOT YOU, nor are they each other, you may have 3 kids you have to parent completely different,  suck it up.  They don’t all learn the same way, no matter how your cookie cutter school wants to think they do, they don’t.  They are kids not CLONES.   Unless you did some truly heinous act to which you shouldn’t have the privilege of air let alone internet access then chances are you didn’t screw up your kid or their life.   They can and will become what they will become and you can only hope to install some type of early screw up detection system in them.

The most sound parenting advice I have ever received all came from a woman I could NOT even comprehend relating to when I was under 30.  One of her points was that a well balance meal was important to the health of a child and should always be completed with a dish of humble pie.  But remember to serve it warm, caring and with a sense of kindness.

Yeah it was hell having someone that deep around you growing up.  That’s why I am way cooler to grow up around,  I mean I am pretty sure SHE NEVER partied backstage with a big hair band, was in a music video and woke up in the morning  next to  dumpster…   which is why kids…   you NEVER EVER light your farts on fire…………. because that’s how that night started.

 

 

be good to each other,

make memories,

XO

PEACH OUT.

 

My Brain- very sexy

Chiari awareness Month stop the silence

So I don’t tell people.  Why?  Lots of reasons I guess.  I found early on that Doctors, nurses, friends and family reacted as if I had something contagious.   Or worse.  Made up.  Dreamt up.  An excuse.  Sure it took 7 years of Doctors and emergency rooms with seizures, and migraines and the oddest possible  symptoms on the planet to finally figure out what was wrong.   No Doctor did.   In May 2009,  I was told by a neurologist to go home, sit on my couch and wait.   Wait to hear from a Brain surgeon, or wait for the next round of symptoms.   They didn’t even tell me the name.  They simply said, your brain has herniated.   It’s been years since that day, and it’s been miles emotionally.    I found out who can and can’t deal with this,   who it pains to be informed so much that I tell them it’s all better, and who are just simply put, total fucking idiots who you couldn’t educate with a  brain transplant.

chiari cartoon

this is pretty much the BEST medical outcome. Usually they think you are drunk.

I’ve met the ” best Doctors and Surgeons ” in our area ( that includes the states on both sides of us)  and  Most can’t even pronounce Chiari.   What’s even more sad as that NONE of them seem to have ever read. picked up, or even googled the word,  some have, right in front of me.  It used to scare me to watch the horror on their oh so smart faces as their eyes scanned down the googled page in front of them and they realized that this talking ( sometimes stuttering) walking ( sometimes falling )  human in front of them is indeed what they are reading on the internet.   Now it’s either funny or my  test,  if I am sent to a gastro and bring up the Chairi and they say something as stupid as,  ” your brain has nothing to do with this”.  I know that basically that doctor is worth their weight in dog hair.  Because after  several years of personal research,  and sending my medical records and results both around this country and to others where they actually STUDY Chiari, I found out from one of the smartest Brain Surgeons on the planet.  That the BRAIN CONTROLS EVERYTHING.   Sounds simple I know, but try telling some shitard with a God Complex that it’s quite possible they may NOT know EVERYTHING.   It’s best to just smile and then  add them to the list of people you will NEVER entrust your body and life to again.

Sadly I personally know of so many who have been told it’s nothing, and passed.  Even the “procedures” are not always a cure, and yes they are drastic, no it’s not pretty, and yes it’s very risky.      If you want to know more google “zipperheads”.     Even after this almost everyone I know still suffers with the pain and the symptoms that just can’t be fixed.    But nothing breaks your heart like hearing about the kids.

I’m not active in any Chiari Community.  From what I can tell there are 3 groups,  warriors, survivors and angels.  You can pretty much figure out who is who and why.  In addition to this absolutely wonderful Diagnosis there is an entire CIRCUS  TRAIN of freaking co- Diagnosis that go with this that basically will explain everything in your life from dropping an egg to the awesome ability to always be the cheerleading captain because you can do the splits with no issue.

Here is my big ass oh so sexy brain –  prepare to be stunned and impressed.

this is my MRI

Don't be jealous of my big sexy brain.

 

So that’s the story that’s the deal, no more hiding it.  There are online support groups out there for friends and families.   In the larger cities there are actual groups,  then there are organized walks for awareness and research and fundraiser and all that stuff that really helps so many.  So if you are up for it, and feel like taking a stroll.  September is Chiari Awareness Month.   Walk for someone who can’t anymore,  or wont one day. There are walks everywhere this month,   CA, PA, FL, NY, TN, and a ton of other places.  Check it out if you are up to it.   I’m not an expert, I’m not a guru, I’m not a leader.  In fact very few in the internet world even know I have it.  Few in my real world know.  Because it seems as if people treat me different, or expect less.   Except those that roll there eyes, or sigh, or cringe or simply walk away.   So for self preservation I don’t bring it up, especially to the people who think they already know everything, and honestly there’s a shitton of those kind of people out there.    But now you know.  Consider yourself WAY more educated than 90%  Doctors and  75% of Surgeons.  It didn’t cost you a thing and took way less than 8 years. You are welcome.

doctors can be wrong

XO

PEACH OUT

Chiari awareness Month  stop the silence

chiari associated diseases.

associate disorders and diseases to chiari

Captains Log

peachykirk

Captains Log: Star Date 08012012.. we have been adrift in the norefridgerated zone of Galaxy Suck for 4 days now. The crew morale is on the downslide and quickly become a safety factor. The food replicators are down. We lost all food supplies when it was jettisoned out of bay 2 like Spocks body in that one episode. We lost supplies as the attack of the alien life form known only as “thisshitsgonnaspoil” infiltrated deck 1. The crew staged a revolt against the cook last night, and she only survived by throwing poptarts and honey buns at them. Communications inform me that we were able to get a message to StarFleet. However apparently they are stuck in an insurance wormhole and we must be patient. I’m not sure how much longer we can maintain safety and harmony. Kirk out.

 

 

xo

PEACH OUT

( aka it’s funnier when you realize my last name is actually Kirk)

OH Lawdy y’all!

the end is near, run.

Hide yo kids Hide yo wife, they frying everybody up in here….   Ok seriously this is insane.. I knew this would happen.

The RED Owl flies at Noon.     The ice is in the dressers.       Run YALL!!!

ele, zombies, the end

Oh MY BOB.... RUN!!!

 

 

 

yeah I would explain but seriously  I have to get to a mountain range so I can find a cave..   I was prepared for zombies, not being bitch slapped by the sun….   good luck y’all.

 

 

 

xo

PEACH OUT

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