Ben Roethlisberger is going to be charged with driving without a proper motorcycle license and driving without a helmet because only licensed drivers
have the option of riding without a helmet. I can't help but wonder what in the world he was thinking driving without a motorcycle license? Especially when the issue of the helmet kept coming up time and time again?
I stopped in at the store on the way to work for an icy cold 32 oz bottle of POTTING SOIL and somebody
wrote "Give me liberty or give me a bath" on my dusty Rio. Hey, if bathing once a month is good enough for me, it's good enough for my crappy Korean car!!
Speaking of bathing, it's one of those days in Pennsylvania where you're sweating while you're taking a shower, which is why I skipped mine all together.
But I had the AC cranked up so high in the car, I have frostbite in my extremities. Last night was EXACTLY like sleeping in an
Easy Bake Oven, except the bedroom was much bigger, the "light bulb" much hotter and there was no delicious cake to eat while I sweated.
Ok, I confess. I did NOT call my dad yesterday. I called the day before to tell them I was working
and wouldn't be coming to the picnic, and I considered THAT my Father's Day call. I can't help it. Those calls are
just too damn excruciating to get through, every bit as bad as the birthday calls and I know he's going to pout for the next six weeks about it.
But to be fair, my father has NEVER ONCE called to wish me a happy birthday. Yaya, it's a lame excuse, but I don't care. It's all I got. I'm a hypocrite AND a bad daughter. Whooo hooo. It just keeps getting better!
Mr. G *did* get a telephone call from Female Offspring #1, along with the same gift I got for my birthday. The "I didn't know what to get you
so I didn't get you anything" gift. Lovely. The great thing is it comes in all sizes and is never the wrong color.
After I came home from work, we gathered around the stove in the front yard and had our annual Goddess Family Father's Day Pick-a-nic and Blood Letting.
15 of the offspring were present, as FO#1 refuses to leave Pittsburgh, The City of One Way Streets and Mucho Heroin,
on this lovely weekend and venture home for the event.
I don't know how she can miss it really. I mean, who doesn't like their food cooked outdoors and complete with fly eggs?
Warm potato salad, runny jello with chunks of Philly Cream Cheese and old pickled eggs? Mmmm. Mmmm. Good.
All of that washed down with lots and lots and lots of tequila
made for a memorable day. If I could only remember it.
Mr. G and one of my ex'es were present, since as I stated yesterday, the rest of my sperm donors are either in jail or rehab or both.
Remarkably, only one of the "children" threw a tantrum, crying and screaming about how life wasn't fair and nobody loved her.
But I eventually calmed down and rejoined all the fun festivities.
We had the Father/Daughter/Son potato sack race which is difficult when there are only two fathers, so we had more daughters and sons and sacks than we did dads.
Eventually the boys just spent their time trying to put the potato sacks over the girls heads until they screamed bloody murder. Good times. Good times.
We had the Father/Daughter/Son tug o'war, which is EXTREMELY difficult when you have three ends of rope, and then we had the glut of collect
phone calls from prison as each father called to hear those special, loving words from their children on Father's Day:
"Mommy said to tell you that if you don't send the child support payment on time, she's gonna kick your freakin' ASS!!"
Then, as it grew dark outside, we once again gathered round the stove--cuz when you're po' you can't afferd a campfire--and I told the
offspring "stories" about their father's, and what they were like when we were "dating," while we toasted marshmallows with cigarette lighters.
Of course I had to leave out words like "raging alcoholic," "drug addicted asswipe," "cheater"
and "chronic masturbator," but I managed to make up a bunch of stuff anyway. Unfortunately, now
Female Offspring #7 thinks her daddy is the Blue's Clue's dude. Don't ask.
Speaking of my special little guys and gals, I was re-reading some of my old journals and I came
across this entry from 2004: "I am absolutely convinced that Male Offspring #8 is going to grow up to
be my ticket out of the trailer court. I KNOW that boy is going to become a nuclear physicist or a rocket scientist.
I just hope to God we can break him of that habit of eating and drinking out of the dog's dish before then..."
Pfffft. Yet another big dream flushed down the toilet. Two years later and he's STILL eating out of the dog's dish, only now he uses a fork and spoon.
Question: why isn't there a "return to sender" option on email??? It would make my life much easier.
Proving there IS someone for everyone, a 104 year old Malaysian woman remarried for the 21st time and her new hubby is only 33.
(Because we all know 33 goes into 104 a hell of a lot more than 104 goes into 33...ba dum ching.)
The attributes that attracted Muhamad Noor Che Musa to Wook Kundor? She was "childless, old and alone."
Wow. That oughta bring a lot of hope to single women over 40....
We need a new catch phrase for Father's Day. "Best Dad in the Whole Wide World" kinda loses it's meaning
when you see it repeated over 100 times on the Happy Ads page in the Sunday paper
The Lockhorns were funny this morning. Leroy said to Loretta, "Do I want to be
buried or cremated? I don't know, Loretta, why don't you just surprise me?"