Mommy & Me

 

This could very well be one of the more controversial and/or ill received blogs I’ve ever written down, (assuming anyone reads it), but it’s an issue I’ve always wanted to talk about but I’ve struggled on how to get it out without it being misinterpreted.  So here’s me taking my best shot to put it out there and see if I’m the only one that feels this way.  It’s simply an occurrence I’ve noticed wherever a circle of mothers gather.  It’s less common among a group of close women friends but it’s particularly prevalent at children’s birthday parties, school functions, play dates and among playground mom gangs.  There seems to be some unwritten rule or general belief that once you’ve reached the party and loosened your death grip on your kid enough to allow him/her to take off to play with the other children, it’s then we mothers are left alone to force small talk.  It will always be a safe bet to assume the subject matter we immediately go to is our children and the rearing of.  I’ve never been sure if it’s the inevitable “go to” topic because it’s clear it’s the one thing we all have in common or if it’s a deeper pressure that in some bizarre way, we believe if we don’t talk about our children with someone who also has children, this in some way makes us bad mothers.  What makes this particularly intriguing to me is, once you let your kid loose to join the gaggle of other kids, they don’t waste another minute worried about you.  In fact they hate to see you coming.  They will never pause on the waterslide to ask whether you want a snack or need to poop.  Yes they are children, but sometimes I think we could all take a cue from them and lighten up a little.  I’m often tempted to ditch the clucking chickens and their stuffy banter to take my own turn on the waterslide.

I’m always mentally prepared for the obligatory mom chatter.  All my stock conversation is accounted for and notecards in order upon arrival.  “Yes, Lily was so slow to talk and regressed a bit when I had Reid.”  “No we don’t attend Mommy & Me Yoga.”  “Yes, I allow them to have gluten.”  Speaking of gluten, I’m also well-versed in how to deal with the “Perfect Mother” and the dietary interrogation to follow. As sure as the sun will rise, “Perfect Mother” will monopolize the conversation and will brag for hours on end about her child’s macrobiotic, vegan non-dairy diet and how it keeps their behavior in check.  Meanwhile I’ve seen this same kid’s head submerged, ear deep, in a bowl of starbursts while her back was turned only after taking breaks from beating other children over the head with water noodles.  This is where I simply smile and nod, smile and nod.  This is where I’m going to stress how I don’t want to be misread; I think parenting is different for everyone.  Every mother and father make choices they feel are best suited for their children and it’s really no one’s business but their own.  My problem is when their theories and practices are shoved onto others.  At these functions, I think it should be clear that every mom obviously took time out of their day to take their kid to socialize.  If the kid came clothed and doesn’t look emaciated, then I’m going to assume they’re doing a good job until proven otherwise.  But at gatherings such as these, it feels as though it becomes a “who’s the best mom” competition.  There’s always one weaker mom you can see slowly getting taken over by the more outspoken, overbearing mother.   I can see her slowly crumble as judgmental and unsolicited advice gets crammed down her throat.  She begins to look helpless; as though she’s questioning every choice she’s ever made.  I’m not her…  “Perfect Mother” doesn’t get far with me because I’ve mastered how to say “step off” with little more than a look -- (it’s a finely honed skill….)  My way of dealing with “Perfect Mother” may get me written off as nothing more than a stuck up snot but I was thinking the same about her.  Why should her feelings about me be any more substantial than mine about her? 

Whether you work or not, motherhood is still a 24/7 job.  It’s something we do day in, day out.  If you’ve ever noticed, sometimes people with high stress jobs don’t want to discuss their work because it’s all they do and sometimes they’re tired of talking about it and would like to let the subject rest so they have the strength to go back.  What’s more, no one ever questions their desire NOT to discuss it!  I feel the same way about mom chatter.  Just once I’d love for someone to ask if anyone’s tried the new restaurant that just went in or is anyone going to see the new production going on at the Performing Arts Center.  Maybe I’m an oddball...  Maybe I’m the one that should be ashamed that I welcome talk of anything other than tantrums and grade level reading comprehension.  I’m not in competition with other mothers.  I don’t do everything perfectly and I make mistakes every day but I don’t need to justify myself.  It’s okay for me to have an existence and sense of self outside of my children and that DOES NOT make me a bad mother.  I guess I also don’t mean to imply I don’t like discussing my or other people’s children…  I’m just saying that I don’t think it should be a requirement to be seen as accepted or “fit”.  I wouldn’t even be thinking about it if it wasn’t something that happens over and over and over.  It’s almost like a script that is to be closely followed.

I’ve taken a notion to go buy those little “getting to know you” cards you can buy at novelty stores for the next party that spark conversation among new friends – (obviously not the naughty ones).  I may be ostracized and run out of town on a rail but at least I will have tried.  I can hear the whispers at PTA now…  “There’s that mom that brought those cards that lets her kids have pop tarts!  Where does she get off?”  But maybe… just maybe, the frail mom that gets overpowered is secretly thinking what I’m thinking but never had the strength to speak up.  Maybe I’ll crack the door and let a little light in.  Maybe we’ll become friends and maybe I’ll have someone new to go to the new production at the Performing Arts Center with.  Stay tuned – it’s birthday season. *blows party horn*

"The Vagina Monologues" -- My Experience

As of 8:30 last night I knew that there would be a blog to come of my experience.  I felt inspired and I also felt the buzz of the other women around me feeling inspired, excited and proud to be women and I tend to want to write things like that down.  I was first surprised to learn that McKinney was hosting “The Vagina Monologues”.  Albeit, surprised and utterly thrilled.  I must fully admit to my cynical nature here, because I automatically started tearing the production to shreds in my head.  I naturally assumed they would tone it down for the sake of “the area” and the thought of them taking it to PG13 wasn’t authentic therefore was going to be a “wah wah waaah” in my opinion.  I’m a strong believer in “go big or go home”.  But I knew how pleased I was that it was being performed at all, that I knew I was going regardless.  I am pleased to report they edited nothing.  The lady to kick-off the show came dancing out and was so amazed that she had to address the turnout.  She told of making the notion of actually hosting “The Vagina Monologues” in McKinney, TX a reality.  She said the response she got was:  “You want to do ‘The Vagina Monologues’ in McKinney?  ………………………MCKINNEY?”  The way she approached the subject garnered a united and knowing laugh throughout the audience.  She joked of McKinney being very khaki and suburban but she knew we could handle it.  Last night proved that.

It was as true, real, raw, raunchy, funny, gut-wrenching, shocking, beautiful, informative and as uniting as I remember.  I read the book the first time circa 2001, lounging poolside, and I read it in one setting.  Once the 2^nd degree burns healed, I had an amazing tan and a major appreciation for what I’d just read.  I also watched it multiple times when HBO made the monologues into a special.  I was pleasantly surprised by the crowd.  It was far more diverse in age and ethnicity than I’d expected and it did have the occasional man.  I specifically use the term “man” because only a true man could be brave enough to attend, appreciate it for what it is, laugh more than expected and cringe along with us in the intense moments.  It is a room of people slowly uniting and letting walls down and insecurities and fears go.  I was upset to hear after I’d invited a friend to this, that someone without real knowledge of what it is, nor had read the book, told her it was a “feminist” thing in a derogatory connotation.  I highly disagree…  It’s not about man-hating -- let me make that clear.  It is a portrayal of women, interviewed from very young ages all the way to women in their 80’s about things we don’t typically talk about; things we’ve been told we’re not supposed to talk about.  Things like sex, vaginas, sexual abuse, knowledge of one’s own body, etc.  The answers and the reasons behind those answers were compelling…  There are equal stories of good experiences and bad experience; it is merely accounts.  Some are hilarious and painful in one fell swoop. 

The women were all dressed stunningly in red evening dresses and dripping in sparkly jewelry.  They kept the rollercoaster of emotions in full-swing and seamlessly lead you from tears back into laughter.  Then there are the funny gestures between friends in the audience.  Between women who know each other’s secrets and enjoyed a good giggle and nudge at a friend that’s obviously experienced what’s being discussed.  I saw women of all ages doing it and they ALL looked happy and girlish.  I was most pleased at the ages I noted in the audience.  There were two lovely ladies seated in front of me, I would guess to be in their 70’s.  They were your typical dainty older women; hair coiffed, jewels on, smelling of powder.  I made sure to watch their reactions throughout the show.  I wanted to see what moved them, what horrified them, what embarrassed them, what offended them.  You know something?  They laughed when I laughed and they cried when I cried.  I felt a very strong desire to have particular women in my life sitting right alongside me.  I wanted them to see this, experience this and be proud of being a woman.  I’m not sure I could’ve kept my granny around for the whole thing or from the occasional seizure but I’d sure love to try.  I think most of all I’d want them to see that we can experience it without shame.  That it’s okay.  I’m certain they would laugh in between clutching their purses.

After the show the women descended on downtown feeling very stimulated.  It seemed most all the ladies had agreed to a post-show cocktail.  Our gift bags were bright red Raising Cane’s bags.  When we arrived at the pub, my friend threw her bag on the bar and the guy next to her started innocent conversation and asked:  “Oh you went to Cane’s?  What did you get?”  My friend responds very casually:  “Oh no, we just got back from the ‘Vagina Monologues’!”  It was a very loud pub so you could see his eyes widen and begin searching his brain to see if he’d heard the word the word “vagina” for sure.  If you spotted a group next to you toting their bright red gift bags, you knew they’d seen the show, too.  All the ladies were abuzz and seeking out and embracing other ladies toting little red bags and random conversations blossomed.  It seemed all the guys enjoying a calm pint at the pub were startled by the sudden swarm of proud, chatty women.  It was an uprising of women suddenly very comfortable talking about vaginas and had no intentions of shutting up about them for the rest of the evening.  It seemed like the testosterone quietly excused itself because estrogen had taken over, was running rampant and a veil had been taken down.  It was awesome and an experience I recommend to all women and their vaginas.  Oh and men, too, of course. 

Tales From The Gym

I realize lately I haven’t had much to say outside of gym jibber jabber.  I’m not particularly proud of that because I hate one-track-minded people, who can only talk about one thing.  It’s just been a new installment for us and I’m trying to improve my stamina and general fitness and it seems to be all I have to talk about lately because I don’t get out much.  I whole-heartedly admit I workout solely for the sake of vanity.  I’m not a health nut and I don’t care who knows it.  I don’t know my MBI, nor do I care to.  I guess that’s just a disclaimer I wanted to put out there in case I get mistaken as a fitness enthusiast….

We’ve been loving our membership and have gotten so much out of it:  mommy and daddy night out, bonding, purged pores and sore muscles.  I’ve also got to watch the avid gym buff in their natural habitat.  In order to get my 30 minutes in on the treadmill, I require distraction and being a natural born people watcher, I will find it.  I like to get lost in my music and take in the company around me.  My mom and I discussed this the other day and both agree that we’re not fans of workout classes and/or group activities.  I don’t care to do zumba or be in an overly packed yoga class that’s wall to wall people sweating, making sounds that make me uncomfortable and the occasional strange foot in my space.  I don’t like feet or people and feet belong to people so that’s an all-around recipe for disaster.  After years of staying home, the result has been me becoming socially awkward and I’m no longer a people person.  I don’t need a group to feel motivated and I much prefer to workout alone and zone out.  It’s become my therapy…  I see those crazy boot camp people having their circle discussions and “getting’ to know ya” moments and it just weirds me out.

As I walk through the gym, I survey the crowd.  You can see who’s there to actually to get a SERIOUS workout and assess what’s their driving force:  the meatheads that think no one belongs there but them, the barbies who workout out in full make-up who are looking to be picked up and the cruising guys who are happy to oblige.  From my observations, the hardest working people in the gym, not to mention the most fit, are the women 30 and over.  They mean business and will wear your ass out; true story.  I see them doing power squats while balancing on those weird half-ball thingamajiggies while holding kettlebells -- hats off to you ladies!  They’s some bad mamma-jammas.  I love anything weird to watch while I run because it gives me something to focus on other than the fatigued feeling in my butt cheeks.  There’s a particular girl I see frequently that always manages to get a spot right in front of me and has the weirdest running form of anyone I’ve ever seen.  Jason has witnessed her too and we’ve had the occasional drive home, discussing the “weird running girl”.  She doesn’t take time to warm up and walk a little first.  She immediately goes into a run and flails around in the weirdest motions.  We’ve debated on whether she’s dancing while running but either way, she’s working twice as hard as she needs to and messed around one day and got one foot off and one foot on the belt and almost slid off.  She stops frequently to do odd stretches and Monday night she did the most random forward stretch and had her ass directly in the air for a lengthy period of time.  Keep in mind I was on the treadmill directly behind her along with ROWS AND ROWS of others…  I feel for you men, I really do.  That lengthy, suggestive stretch, combined with yoga pants, was enough to make even the most trustworthy man look over.  I’m a chick and even I couldn’t look away….

The other to watch is the guys with huge egos who look in the mirror the entire time.  Ahhh yes, the pretty boy who can’t stop himself from looking over and admiring himself throughout his entire run.  For the record, I hate this guy more than anyone and I’m not wasting another minute on him.  No need to compliment people like that because they already compliment themselves plenty.  Wait, I lied; I hate the people who get right next to you when there are tons of other machines available MORE.  I call these the “keep up” people.  They need to outrun someone and will only run just a little a longer than you to prove something.  It particularly irks me when I was already 10 minutes into a full stride when they begin.  I thought I was experiencing that the other night but only became certain of it when after any gesture I made, she’d make.  I wipe with a towel, she wiped with a towel.  I change a song on my phone, she messes with her phone.  I get inside my head so much sometimes I almost became the random, paranoid, gym woman who stopped running to yell:  “Why you tryin’ to copy me!?!?!”.  Then would come the silenced room of no one making any sudden moves to bait the crazy lady, the awkward stares and me skulking into the dressing room to await my canceled membership for unstable behavior.  Anyone who already thinks I’m a nutcase, you should see the part of me I keep bound and gagged.

Basically the gym, for me, boils down to a lot of egos, weirdness and the occasional badass who inspires me to do more but isn’t there to prove anything to anyone but themselves.  You can generally tell who those people are by the way they carry themselves.   It can be motivation and also some of the realest evidence of human nature available.  I have a serious love/hate relationship with it.  I’m just trying to get in shape but what I’ve noticed just by being there and having nothing but time to take it all in has just been a bonus.  People watching galore!  Also, if I happened to get a nicer ass out of this than I’m all for it.

Sunday Funday.

To say my day was amazing would be an understatement.  We ran around my old stomping grounds from when we first moved to Dallas.  It’s always funny to go back to that area and remember starting out here and how different we are now than we were 12 years ago.  We’ve done a lot of growing in the best way possible.  Jen and I stuffed ourselves senseless at Cantina Laredo over margaritas and kee-keed about everything.  We then proceeded to walk every inch of Northpark Mall.  That mall makes for some great people watchin’ and the chance to see how the other half live when you peek into Herve Leger on your way by.  I came across an adorable older couple holding hands and looking very much in love.  Sights such as these restore my faith.  It warms my heart and makes me think lifelong love is possible.  I bet this little couple have had a lot of ups and downs and could tell some stories.  I loved them.  There’s a total chance I’ve written this couple’s story to suit what I’d like it be….  It’s entirely possible they met through a torrid affair, ruined lives and the relationship is still new enough to want to be physical with each other, which explains the affection, but I’d prefer not to go there…  Or would I?  Never mind, I’ve totally gotten off track and it doesn’t fit with where I’m headed…

That little couple made me think of Jason and I and gave me the warm n’ fuzzies.  I don’t fear getting old like I used to.  I see little old couples enjoying days of leisure together while the world hustles around them with their appointments and overpriced coffee.  In some ways I’m envious and I want that for us some day.  Our twilight years alone together after we’ve gotten all our monkeys raised and out on their own seems really nice to me these days.  It was then I remembered I still owed Jason some sophisticated, expensive, yet slutty lingerie. (Not that I lose any sleep about it, but I often wonder if people get offended when I admit that I do things like buy lingerie for my husband…)  But then I think if someone would get offended that a couple that’s been married 14 years and are still happy keep things interesting in very healthy ways, well….  I pity you and I bet your partner is friggin’ miserable.    Nonetheless, I was pleased to see that the Victoria’s Secret had a way better selection.  I did miss my adorable homosexual boy employee in full make-up from the last store.  His precious demeanor and desire to please me made up for the fact that their selection was for crap.  I really wish I could hire him to follow me around daily, tell me I’m fabulous and help me shop.  But this time I had Jen with me for support and there was a beautiful, robust black lady sent from heaven to help me find my perfect sophisticated, expensive, yet slutty lingerie.   She looked like Loni Love from “Chelsea Lately”.  My only complaint is that at all the other Victoria’s Secrets I’ve been to, have soft pink lighting in the dressing room designed to make you look like a flawless goddess.  If I ever become ridiculously wealthy I will buy that very lighting and hire someone to walk 3 feet in front of me at all times.  However, this Victoria’s Secret had the most offensive downward-facing spotlight style lightening that should be outlawed.   l still managed to find something I love and got an added perk at the register when it was 50% off!  AMAZE-BALLZ.   

To celebrate Jen and I went to PF Changs for a chocolate wall.  We are cursed and get really bad service on levels that are almost comical.  We were both once servers and know what constitutes as a busy server as opposed to a server that just sucks.  Often, we get the stoned server that just sucks.  Our server was on another level of bad but the truth of the matter is, if crappy service is the worst thing that happened to me today, I’m not doing so bad.  I was sent loving texts while I was out and I came home to clean dishes in the dishwasher.  I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.

Diary Of A Mad Mother

Dealing with a child you know is lying is the most frustrating thing ever!!!  My 13 year only has 2 chores:  take out the trash and keep the dogs fed and watered.  When I was his age, my mom had a note pad that read from the desk of “Shelley” written on it in teal lettering.  Every day, she would use that notepad to give me my multi-page list of chores, written in her signature bubbly handwriting that only a precious few can decipher; me being one of them.   My chores were to be completed upon her return or there would be hell to pay.  Now when my mom reads this, and she will, she will not be able to rest until she points out that we had to do chores because she worked 500 jobs and had to have help, so I’m beating her to the punch.  So there, mom  --  I explained.  We cool??

I’m finding that I have been entirely too soft with my oldest and his total laziness is beginning to frustrate me on a level I can’t even put into words but y’all know I’ll damn sure try.  Drew is a good kid, though.  He never gets in trouble for his behavior at school, he helps me with his brother and sister – not always without attitude, but he does help.  He has good morals and values and respects adults.  So we’re good there but Jason and I have had to have the talk about where we went wrong in obviously allowing this kind of apathy to develop.  I think we’ve strived to give our children everything we never had and it ultimately backfired.  What is sending a kid to their room really going to accomplish now’o days?  He has a tv, a wii, a computer, a cell phone, etc.  Ooooh, that’s affective!  I’m worried about his laziness as it has reached epic proportions.  If I don’t remind him to change out of his pajamas on occasion and to WASH, he’d just sit around in his own funk all the while being perfectly content to do so.  There are two things that really get to me when it comes to my kids.  I hate being lied to – especially because Drew’s a really bad liar and it insults my superior b.s. radar.  The funny thing is, I consider him being a bad liar to be one of his finer qualities.  It certainly makes my job easier.  I also hate when they don’t respect or take care of their things.  Drew’s room is a techy gamer’s dream.  He’s got everything in there!  Jason is also a techy gamer type so he understands Drew’s obsession and often bestows gifts upon him “just because”.  He’ll get him a new game, a new piece for his wii, etc.    For his birthday Drew was sent a large amount of cash from all his grandparents.  When it was all added up, the kid had a pretty good chunk of change to work with.  He went and bought a headset to go with a game that I’d tell you all about if I cared enough to pay attention to what the headset is used for.  I gather from his random chatter up there you can speak to whoever you’re gaming.  He’s a smack talker and I once heard him playing with someone and I heard him say:  “Yeah, I think they’ve got me muted, too”.  I thought to myself:  “I’d mute you too you little, shrill trash-talker”.  A few weeks go by and every time I turn around he had that headset crammed in his ear.  Then one day I’m walking passed his bedroom door with a laundry basket in tow and notice he’s got a belt fashioned around his head.  So yeah….  I stop to check out what’s the story behind that.  He explains his headset is broken so he’s using the belt to keep the headset on.  It’s broken because when he was done using it, he simply threw it onto the floor, allowing it to either get stomped on or rolled over by his computer chair.  That just infuriated me!!  I don’t even want to get started on the time I got the distinct impression he was trying to guilt trip me about the fact that his Iphone is only a 3GS.  Ummm…..  Are you kidding me, kid?  He just doesn’t appreciate what he has and it’s just got my feathers all ruffled at the moment.

I’m not sure which bugs me more:  the lying or not respecting his things?  Let me remind you of his two chores:  trash, feed and water dogs.  THAT’S IT!  This morning I was up before everyone.  I pass by where the dog’s food bowls sit and I notice they’re empty.  I’ve been downstairs the entire time Drew’s been awake so I would have heard him rustling around in the dog food bag and heard the pouring of food into bowls.  Not to mention, Piper collects her food in her mouth, wanders off into the living room, plops it all back out onto the floor and eats it from there.  Why?  I don’t know…  It drives me completely insane but it’s something I’ve learned to live with.  So logic tells me, he hasn’t fed or watered the dogs.  I call him down to ask and he blatantly lies to my face and says that he has.  He goes to feed them and they immediately begin snarfing down their food  --  dead giveaway.  So the argument commences and he’s following through with the lie come hell or high water.  He has a signature “deer in headlights” look and usually flails his arms around for emphasis when he’s lying.  I first asked him if he was aware that his eyes were turning brown because he’s so full of crap.  Then I point out to him that in his 13 years, even when faced with undeniable proof of a lie, he’s never once admitted to lying.  So then I asked him:  “So you’re saying you’ve never lied to me, ever?”  He said:  “No, I lie to you all the time just not about this!”  *audi audi audi*  ß (a lil’ onomatopoeia for ya there because that’s what it sounded like in my head.)  Basically, I’m a mad mom.  I ask for very little and right now I feel like I’m not being given the very little that I do ask for.

When my brother came to visit for a month, he sort of held a mirror up to my face to show me that I was letting my kids run me.  There was a day I spent cleaning pretty much the entire day.  Ryan and I went to pick the kids up from school and when we got home the kids just threw their jackets, backpacks and shoes on the floor.  It was a tornado trail from the front door to the kitchen.  I said nothing and it was clear I have accepted this behavior and just assumed my role as the martyr/maid.  Ryan looked at the trail and called all the kids back downstairs to say:  “Pick this crap up!  Uncle Gogo’s about to start bustin’ skulls!”  The looks on their faces was priceless  --  Fun Uncle Gogo just got real.  Reid started calling Ryan Gogo and it just stuck in case you’re curious about that.  In that moment I realized that I was letting them walk all over me and some things needed to change.  So today I’m going to take a tip from Uncle Gogo and tighten up the reigns around here.  I feel a change in the air and momma’s about to bring the hammer down.  I don’t have my own trusty notepad like my mom did but I bet if I asked her she’s still got several laying around she’d send me.  I think it would almost cathartic to begin their new list of chores in the same fashion I received mine.  To be mean, I should text Drew his chores on his crappy 3GS  --  now that borders on poetic!  It’s go time kiddies!

Let's Go To Dinner

Downtown McKinney is very quaint.  It’s a historic square with vintage shops, artsy-fartsy galleries and it comes alive with a music and bar scene in the evenings.  Our big anniversary celebration began with a hiccup when the restaurant we made reservations at sucked for the last and final time I’m going to try to patronize this place.  I continue to try to have a good experience at this restaurant because the food and atmosphere are amazing.  It has amazing outdoor seating, a gorgeous fountain, tons of romantic twinkle lights, a live band on weekends and the food is really good.  The service however, is awful and has been every single time I have tried to eat or even just have drinks there.   I had made reservations for 7:30.  I adjusted the time of the reservation so we could be seated near the fountain.  We arrived, the 2 hostesses looked to be about 16 and we were barely acknowledged as we approached the hostess stand.  Jason told them we had reservations and gave his name.  They then pecked around on their computer screen, grabbed 2 menus and one began walking.  We just assumed we were to follow her; no one really spoke to us.  As we enter an area of outdoor seating, I can already tell she’s walking us to a table that is really going to hack me off if I discover it’s intended for us.  It was the table furthest back, closest to the restaurant, not near the fountain and closest to the server’s entrance so we would constantly be being walked by and getting whacked with trays of food.  I made reservations specifically to avoid this.  Indeed the table was intended for us.  We sit and debate asking to be moved as soon as we see the hostess again.  A pretty good while passes and no server ever comes to our table.  We finally grab the hostess walking by and asked to be moved and she basically blew us off by mumbling something while walking away.  I’m a very “I want what I want when I want it” kind of girl.  All or nothing so…  I’ll show them!  I snatch up my purse, sling it over my shoulder, grab Jason’s arm and we get up and leave.  I make sure to storm off real good, making sure my heels are click clacking in just the right way, all the way dragging Jason behind me like whipped golden retriever.  My service at this place, even when I did get a waiter, has always been deplorable but the place is always jam packed.  I guess there’s a lot to be said for food and atmosphere.  What-eves.  Café Malaga:  We’re done.

Here’s where the problem comes in…  I said downtown McKinney is quaint.  I didn’t say large.  There are a handful of restaurants to choose from and if you don’t have a reservation, you’re screwed.  It will be a minimum hour wait to get a table and good luck getting a seat at the bar to wait for said table to open up.  We moved on to “Sauces” and it was the standard hour wait.  We put our names on the list and went to the bar.  We waited….and waited….and waited.  No bartender ever took a drink order.  After an extended period of time, a random woman comes and takes our drink order.  I asked if they had a blush wine and she said:  “Uuuuum, we have white zinfandel?”  *Eye roll.  We wait….and we wait….and we wait….  She never brings drinks.  We get up and leave.  By this point I’m in a crazed, almost belligerent state and holding myself back from grabbing random strangers on their way in, while I’m on my way out to say:  “DON’T DO IT!!  SAVE YOURSELVES!!!”  I am walking out of the restaurant aimlessly, cursing the day McKinney was founded and everyone who resides in it and I need a drink somethin’ bad.  Jason is just following me trying to talk me down.  He immediately turns into “the negotiator” and comes at me much like the strategy we’ve seen used between “the negotiator” and the armed gunman on episodes of “Dallas SWAT”  “Misty honey, step out of the dark place.  Come back to me.  Breathe.  Let’s say to hell with eating dinner and let’s just go get wasted.”  DEAL. 

Finally we pass the Landon Winery.  Awe, the winery.  Every single table is full except one 2-top tucked away right in front of the band.  I’ll take it.  At this point, sitting outside on the sidewalk with a glass of white zinfandel was looking appealing to me, ya know….  If I could just get someone to take my cockadoodie drink order!!  We sit, we order wine and try to get into a better disposition.  After a little time passes I notice a group with a prime table stirring.  They’re about to leave, I can tell!  I immediately send Jason over to stalk it.  I stay seated in case we don’t get it and then lose our current crappy table.  BOOM!  He gets the table and I come running.  The mood shift is happening!!  The band was good, the wine began to flow and Jason’s phone goes off and it’s “Sauces” saying our table is ready.  We agree we’ve decided to drink our dinner.  Go to hell “Sauces”.  We were seated near some cool folks who were friendly and talkative.  Jason went to the bathroom at one point and an older gentlemen seated close to us decided he wanted to talk to me.  It was mentioned that we were out celebrating our anniversary and he said we were a lovely couple and he’s in the middle of a divorce from a 35 year marriage.  That immediately intrigued me and I scooted closer because my nosy self was going to get THAT story.  I asked him:  “You put in 35 years and you quit now?  Do you miss her?”  He informed me he’d checked out about 10 years earlier but was just hanging around and going through the motions on account of his daughter.  Apparently his daughter has stopped speaking to him over the divorce.  Jason returned and I introduced them and discovered he’s a high school economics teacher.  We discussed marriage, kids today and their lack of respect and lots of other stuff but it got a little wine soaked so ya know…  We wrapped it up and agreed we’d enjoyed meeting each other and had enjoyed the conversation.  This morning I couldn’t help but wake up and look over at Jason and say:  “How do you know you’re not going to just wake up 35 years down the road and want out?”  He first knew that chance meeting was going to provoke me to ask him that very question.  He second answered correctly:  “I just won’t”.

You're Ugly [send]

I have a total fear that we are rapidly becoming the rudest, most thoughtless, self-indulgent and heartless society EVER.  In the era of such advanced technology, it’s very possible to live life and take out your frustrations and get revenge on others, all the while being completely incognito.  We’re safe behind the anonymity of our tinted windshields, our phones and computers that allow us to treat people however we want because we no longer run the risk of getting popped in the face like the good old days.  Yes, yes now you can just fire off an angry e-mail or call the hotline and get someone fired or just basically ruin a total strangers life and/or day without feeling a thing or ever having to face anyone and be forced to ask ourselves the question:  “Was that really necessary?  Or was it just too easy?”

As social networking expands, the odd part of in all of this is; we are completely losing our social skills.  When we’re not treating total strangers like dirt online these days we’re barely interacting at all face to face.  Why offer a smile to the cashier at the store?  I’ve got fresh victims living in my computer to devoir when I get home!  I’ll give a for instance:  I challenge you to look up any youtube video; the videos content has absolutely no relevance.  Scroll down and if the first two pages of viewer comments doesn’t have you questioning where we as a people are headed than you won’t relate to this blog on any level.  Just cut it off and just stop reading now… 

It’s the mixture of pure maliciousness and the out n’ out stupidity that leaves me beating my head against the keyboard.  Let’s separate the commenters into a few groups, shall we? #1:  “The Troller” – These are the people who live to leave nasty comments for the thrill of making waves.  They like to go to “In Memory” videos and call the deceased an ugly slut or say things like:  “Kill it!  Kill it with fire!” on a video of a girl that’s not so cute and made the mistake of trying to sing”.   I find anyone that entertains their nonsense to be equally stupid.  Then I notice “The Troller’s” profile pic is a World of Warcraft character and they’re watching videos of kittens rolling around in a bowl at 10:00 P.M. on a Saturday night so that would explain their anger towards life in general and I guess we’ll chalk that up as punishment enough for now.  #2:  “The Uptight Guy” -- This is the person who could spoil a wet dream.  An example:  I was watching an adorable video of a guy playing around with his Doberman Pinscher.  They were playing, aggressively yes but it was clear through both his and his dog’s body language the dog was having the time of his life.  Jason and Piper play like this all the time; she absolutely loves it.  The guy and his dobe were taking turns in the role of “alpha” and when it was the human’s turn he would roll his dog over on his back, roughhouse a little and start all over.  When it was over, it was over.  The dog was told play time was over and to sit.  The dog sat immediately and was shown affection.  There was nothing going on but a guy having fun with his dog and a dog having fun with his master.  But oh no…  no, no, no…  inevitably there has to be the occasional comment out of the realm of “that was adorable” to point out how you should never turn a dog on its back because that’s considered threatening and a degrading thing for a dog and will result in a bite.  Yeah, ‘cause you know this particular dog and this owner so well, right?  Why do you care if he gets bit, for that matter?  I can see how the dog’s glistening coat and obvious respect for his owner would lead you to believe he is being mistreated and should be removed from his playful, loving, stable home so he can be put in a shelter and euthanized in a week.    I hate this guy the most.  He represents the wussifcation of America and it’s that kind of thinking I blame for the over-inflation of political correctness and frivolous lawsuits.  Thank guys like him for tort reform.  Yep, that guy…  I hate him more than “The Dumbass” which we’re getting to now…  #3:  “The Dumbass” -- We’re not going to spend much on “The Dumbass” because it’s pretty self-explanatory and a waste of my time.  They leave comments like:  “Is this for real??” on images of hideously photoshopped creatures from the planet Schneckenbloink.  At some point you realize they can’t help it and the pity factor kicks in so you allot forgiveness.  I guess my point through all this is I have this fantasy of lifting the veil between commenters and video posters, post comment war, and see what happens.  Total lab rat scenario.  I can’t help but think no one would have a damn thing to say.  I think you'd hear crickets...  Why?  I think the answer is obvious.  I think to truly examine the belief that people are inherently good you really need to examine how the majority of people act when given the privilege of having absolutely no consequences for their actions.  Nine times out of ten, a person is going to opt to be a dick.  Like it, don’t like it…  I calls it like I sees it. 

My neighbors have 2 dogs.  They get out of the back fence pretty frequently.  They roam around, they’re not hurting anyone but animal control is always here within minutes;  which means, a neighbor has spotted them on the loose and called them.  I have to ask the question:  “Do those dogs roaming around REALLY bother someone THAT bad that they feel the need to report them and have their dogs taken away?”  Or was it just too easy to make ruining someone else’s day the highlight of their own?  As soon as I figure out who keeps getting their dogs taken away I’m going to sue them for emotional distress and increased paranoia that everyone really is out to get me….  Oh but wait, then they’d know who I am, huh?  There are court orders to keep them away and keep me safe though, right?...........RIGHT?  Would we like, have to face each other and stuff?