I Like Free Stuff, Too, But Damn... (I Think It's Time For A Flood)

Hello All! (Well, all four people who will read this, anyway.) I’ve been slacking on my blogging lately, I know. It’s just been busy in my ‘hood of late. So for my funny, ranty blog, you get another FoFree blog! And if this isn’t enough fun for you, later on I’ll light some sparklers and do some kicks.




“i am renovating a house and need a shower, a kitchen sink, cabinets, and carpet. im would love anything that is functional. thanks from 21921, elkton.”

See, here’s the thing…it doesn’t sound like you’re renovating a house. It sounds like you’re building one. You may want to rethink the reno…just for now. Maybe start with something small, like building a toybox or something.


“Toothbrush holder. 4 slots, one single rosebud decal. Fastest pickup gets them. State day and time in your email...all others will be deleted. “


Yeah, I know for sure I wouldn’t want to wait around for days and weeks on end for someone picking up my funky ass old toothbrush holder. I might respond, but only if the dentu-grip is still stuck in the bottom. But if I forget to put the date and time, I’ll certainly meet with the disappointment of being deleted. Shit.



“Offer: 6 pez dispensers. I know some people collect these. There is a which, a pumpkin, a panda, a lady bug, winnie the poo and cinderella. Must take all if you want any.”

What if I don’t have room for all six? What if I only wanted the which? (Witch which?) Does the lady bug have spots? Who the hell has a panda Pez dispenser?

Oh, and “winnie the poo”?

Gross.


”i have a cockitail who ever wants it please contact me aslap i cant afford him anymore please let me knopw aspa i want him gone this wook hes on his last bit of food my jamie i want him gown before with in the next day ty “

Holy shit, dude.


”My mother in law would love to have another ferret and I was hoping to have one for her for Christmas we would also need the cage and accsoroes for it she would also love to have another female kitten with extra toes! Your help would be much appreashiated! Thank you all again! Have a happy and safe holidays!

xoxo

Amanda”

Amanda, I absolutely understand your want to please your mother in law. But before you take the path to Chernobyl to find these animals, might I suggest finishing third grade? Also, stop wishing kittens to have extra body parts. I'm pretty sure that people who wish kittens to have extra parts have a special rung in hell. That’s a BIRTH DEFECT, you fucking idiot.

xoxo


”HEllo... Does anyone have something I can mix cement in? “

I hear my jamie’s cage will be free soon.


“I have a box of 8 track tapes that have been in storage forever. Haven't had an 8 track player in years.”

You don’t say.


”I am looking for a mini horse for pet”

Oh, good. As long as it’s for a pet. If you were looking for a mini horse to play Gulliver, I might worry.



”I have a little lady that is in need of a ride to hockey practice. if someone is involved in the ****** **** high school field hockey and is going past south queen st and has room i will pay for gas?? thanx for reading”

Also, thanks for kidnapping my little lady. They should do a Sixty Minutes on this broad, and then call Child Protective Services. At least you can’t call her a cheapskate. She is willing to pay for gas.


“I Just got a new puppy for my boyfriend and i am looking for supplies such a toys, crate, or leashes or collars for him, thanks”

Girlfriend, didn’t the checker stop you at PetSmart? Did she tell you that real puppies aren’t like the cute, battery operated back flippy puppies? Did you at least get food? And the food is going to need a bowl. Oh, make sure you water it. Shit, that needs a bowl, too. If you go to buy two bowls, you’re going to need your wallet. Oh, you might need a car. Jesus, it’s like an MC Escher painting. There’s no beginning or end.

Why Should Raising Your Kid Require A Battle Hymn?

Is it just me, or does “The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother” media infection set your nerves on edge?

Now, I don’t mean to be judgemental, I just have a bit of a hard time understanding the lifelong personal benefits of “Old World Discipline”. We’re pretty progressive ‘round these parts. So progressive, in fact, that when my sick kid balked at his pancakes this morning and wanted a lollipop, I gave it to him. Quit judging me. I bet you put syrup on your kid’s pancakes. I was just smart enough to cut out the carbs and maple flavored handprints on my IKEA couch.

Recently, my husband came home from work and warned me:

“If you’re in the PX or Commissary and the boy acts up, don’t discipline him. The Army is going around posts making sure that people aren’t abusing their children. If you swat him or yell in public, I can get in trouble at work.”

Is there a happy medium here? Up to what point is appropriate and “effective” child rearing a matter of personal, familial, or cultural opinion? Should my slapping my kid’s hand in the grocery store for screaming and grabbing candy be a “punishable” offense? And, if yes, who should be made punishable? Assuming I am a lollipop giving, hand slapping harpy, why should my husband be reprimanded for having the misfortune of having children with me?

While it’s clear that this woman is pleased to be at an educational and social stature that she views to be both intellectually and socially superior, I can’t help but feel that she’s lost out hugely. Not only as a mother, but also in the simple joys of life. I’m sure that saying I find a published, accomplished Yale professor “pitiable” will highlight me as slightly ignorant. I mean, I have no college education, I have yet to be published on anything other than public forums (and am the only one doing the publishing), and my children do not yet excel at anything other than dancing and singing raucously while making a gigantic mess. Despite those points, I wouldn’t trade my son running up to me and hugging me as tightly as his tiny arms allow, for no reason that I can see. I can’t imagine my stepson not wanting to color or read with me, snuggled on the same IKEA couch. I think I might fall apart without my stepdaughter wanting to cook with me, or spend time simply hanging out and talking.

Obviously, being pushed to be “stereotypically successful” can be sporadically beneficial. But at what cost? Does this person think this is fair for her children? How many times have you heard of the criminal and derelicts “they weren’t hugged as children” or “those are ‘mommy’ issues”? Is hearing your kid flawlessly fingering Mozart or Basie (assuming they are allowed to have fun once) a fair trade for the child/parent relationship?

Before you get too worked up, this is not a book review. To be honest, I have about as much intention to read this book as I have to read…well, anything else with the word “hymn” in the title. I have a bit of a hard time finding it acceptable to equate a culture knows for it’s strictness to marketed child abuse. While I’m sure it can be rewarding watching your child excel so immensely at a task, I find it counterproductive to society as a whole to publicly laud the berating and emotional beating of our loinfruit.

I suppose that if your goal is to raise the prodigal child (and possible subject matter expert on the Triad of Sociopathy), then the “Battle Hymn” is an acceptable route.

Me? I’ll take cupcake baking messes, hugs, and explaining what “Under the name of Sanders” means. But, then again, my kid shakes his ass to Count Basie and Drowning Pool.

What are you gonna do?

The Crossover Episode

I’ve been putting it off, writing this damned blog. I wish it were just for one reason. Unless you pile the stress, lack of time, daily grind, dog, cat, dirty kitchen, clogged vaccum and paralyzing fear on top of each other. Then you might be able to consider it one reason. And if you can compartmentalize like that, rock on. That’s a gift.

I’ve been putting it off for a few reasons, but now seems the best time. Partly because I’ve got lukewarm coffee, I’ve got candles burning, I’ve got my trip-hop in the background, the kid is in a Benadryl coma…but mostly, because I have to kick start this burgeoning creative outlet, or I’m going to crawl out of my skin.
Anywho, there are a few phrases that wives of servicemen hate to hear. The range of anger can vary, however, we’re pretty used to hearing the following:

“Don’t get mad, but…”
“But honey, YOU get to choose the next post!”
“The orders say….”
“Have you seen my flak vest?”

And, the mother of all phrases doesn’t actually have one phrase. It can be something as simple as:

“Honey, are you on the FRG phone tree?” (especially if it’s not near a holiday).
“Guess what? That poster board you’ve been saving? I know what you can use it for in a year!”
“Have you seen my flak vest?” (Trust me, this is ongoing.)
“We’re going to be able to save so much money!”

But those last few? They all mean the SAME DAMN THING. They’re getting’ on a plane. And they’re not going to Detroit, people.

And all of you reading this? You’ve just fallen into the Reclass/PCS/Deployment rabbit hole. You don’t have to read it. It’s probably going to be about two years of ricocheting thoughts, rants, tears, and fears. And I mean it, you really don’t have to read it.

But I’m going to write it, just the same. It's just who I am.

If you'd like to follow the journey, exit link right.

The 500 Thread Count Invasion

Everything spun out of control on my day off.

I wanted to spend some time with the spawn, so I kept him home from daycare and brought him on my morning errands. He followed me around the house as I cleaned, and managed to be cute enough to keep me from throwing his toilet water soaked train at him (the fifth time it took a swim). Evening-ish time rolled around and… ahh, time for dinner, a shower, and the sweet, sweet release of sleepytime…right? Yep, you guessed it: WRONG.

I was so very, very wrong.

11:15. 12:25. 2:00. 3:03. 4:15.

4:15 is when I broke.

Pulling the 2 year old ball of screaming and clinging from behind the baby gate and into our room, he morphed into a happy, playing alter-ego. Then he altered (yet again) into the smallest thing in the world to take up an entire queen sized bed.

I’ve never been an advocate of children sleeping with their parents. Sure, bad dreams happen. Once in awhile, most things are excusable. I always figured moderation is the key. But now…I mean, I’m still sure that moderation is the key. It’s just that the meaning of moderation seems to have changed lately. It’s not so moderately turning into every other night. Or every night. And just when I think the pattern has rearranged itself…it hasn’t.

Is this a phase? Is this the intangible parent figure’s way of punishing me for judging those who’s kids slept with them? Am I screwing my kid up? And when (fortheloveofgod) will I get to sleep without something in Thomas the Train jammies in my personal space?

I Like Free Stuff, too, but Damn...Part Deux.

For those of you new to my little slice of the blogosphere, this is how this piece came to be...

Don’t get me wrong, there are some people who are perfectly fine with Craigslist. I just don’t happen to be one of them. It might have something to do with living next to Baltimore, but who knows?

Craigslist also irritates me.

That’s right, it irritates me. I seem to have a hard time figuring out why someone with a puked on, cigarette burned (yes, I’m speaking from experience) Graco BABY SWING can feel justified in trying to sell it for fifty dollars. It’s insanity.

In lieu of Craigslist, I’ve found Freecycle, which is a Yahoo group that only allows the giving up or receiving of goods. No trading, no selling, and no offering of or asking for any type of service. It’s a nice little group, and it seems to really have weeded out the crazies and undesirables.

Mostly.

Here are some that have been posted in my local area (as you can only join the county you reside in).

I am still looking for a kitchen aid stand mixer since mine broke. If anyone has one that they never use or taking up to much space I would love to have it and would put to good use. Thank you in advance –

Yes, I often feel the need to purchase kitchen appliances that cost more than my car payment. I then feel the need to either not use it, or give it away.



please need a couch and a chair for my living room...i let my sister and her kids live with me and after they moved out they let there bed bug be hide and now i got to get rid of my kids beds and our living furniture ...so if anyone has some i dont care what it look like as long as it got no hole PLEASE help me and my family thank u and god bless --

Are you sure the bedbugs aren’t there to help you learn how to type without sounding like you have a cold? And I have news, they probably did not restrict themselves to the kids’ beds and living furniture. They’re notorious for traveling. Seriously. Ask your sister.



I have about four bras all 38C, cami body shaper XL, Flexes girdle large, confident and beautiful brown girdle large, 3 pair of coffee colored pantyhose, and four cotton underwear size XL. All are in great condition some have never been worn. Quickest pick up preferred. Must pick up


ewEwEW!!! Some have never been worn? Some? It’s nothing personal, it’s just that I don’t feel like we’re on that level where I’m able to comfortably wear your (albeit in “great condition”) used chonies.



WANTED:

working treadmill/exercise bike. -- Found: Sidewalk.

any kind of athletic/gym mats. – Found: Grass.

heavy bag/punching bag in decent condition. – Found: The sister that left the bed bug be hide.

any unused appliances (washers, dryers, refrigerators, stoves, etc.) -- Hmmm…

any decent sized scrap metal. –Wait, what?

will come and pick up. -- All that stuff, I’d friggin’ hope so, Matt. I’d friggin’ hope so.

thank you,
Matt


im in need of a computer to use to git on line thank u Ernie --

I’m not gonna lie to you, everything I’ve tried to think of to go with this pales in comparison. It just pales.



Wanted: Ariel Rug 21921 Any kind as long as its it good condition. Thank you, any help would be great! --

Any kind of Ariel rug? How many types of Ariel rugs are out there? I’m sure that her father, King Triton, would be sad to know his little girl’s rug isn’t one of a kind.

OFFER:( in Nottingham, PA 19362) MATURE WANDERING JEW. (A PLANT, NOT AN ELDERLY LOST PERSON) Contact Howard> --

Howard, I think I fell in love with you a little bit when I read this.



Plastic bag full of socks, all different colors. They have been worn but are not worn out. Womens size 9-10
Sue --

Sue, just bite the bullet and throw the f-ing socks out. Just take the plastic bag, and instead of placing it on your porch, place it in the dumpster. Please. Otherwise, I see an intervention in your future. Or maybe lots of cats.



wanted a car 21921 need one for some one lost hers in a fire it do not have to lock good i will fixs it up for her –

I’m very, very sorry for the car fire. That’s a terrible thing to happen, and anyone who giggles at this may want to stand one lightning bolt’s distance away from me at all times, but…well…damn. Again, all of my thoughts are paling in comparison. Super pale. Like, ecru. Or Eggshell. Or something else reallllly pale.



in need of 50 in or bigger tv for my mom she is having troble seeing small ones –

I’m having troble seeing, too. I have troble seeing how on earth I’d hand over a TV that equals the same as a mortgage payment.



Ahh, I love Maryland. So many rednecks, so little typing ability.

Why I Kissed My Husband In The Grocery Store Parking Lot

We’ve all been there…the freeway traffic slows to a crawl, and seconds tick by like hours as the MPH indicator hesitates to rise above seven. We shift uncomfortably in our seats, change the radio station, roll our eyes while sighing heavily. Clearly, this inconvenience was created to make our day difficult. Dammit!

And then, suddenly, the seven miles an hour seems too quick, as we pass the flashing lights and multicolored emergency vehicles. Sometimes, people are sitting on a hill or in the back of ambulances. Sometimes they are standing, glassy eyed, staring at the twisted remains of their former mode of transportation. We all stare, destruction and grief fascinating everyone within eyeshot.

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to be humbled. As I pulled the truck into the parking spot in front of my son’s daycare home, I kicked the emergency brake into submission. As far as I figured, it had it coming because I’d had a bad day at work, and had decided my truck owed me something. As I turned the ignition off, I watched as two uniformed police officers walked toward two women. One woman yelled, and I took a moment to reflect on the situation, internally thinking to myself how I would act differently if approached by law enforcement. But then, clearly, if someone is yelling at an officer, said yeller must have done something wrong. Right?

As if in slow motion, the officer reached for the woman. Rather than grabbing her, he laid his hand on her bicep, and I watched as her face changed to a color Crayola wouldn’t dare create. She crumpled, as everyone watching on the street simultaneously shrunk. Over and over, she screamed “NO HE ISN’T”, and rocked the rhythmic rock of the distraught. Again we stared, but this time in disbelief. So many people aching with kind words and hugs for this woman we’d never met. The minutes ticked by, and we all stared at each other, silently tearing and thinking of our loved ones.

All night and this morning, my thoughts have gone toward my family and friends. I stopped on my way in and picked my coworkers up some coffee. I gave one of my supervisors a peanut butter cup I’d been hoarding. I didn’t flinch when someone told me to have a blessed day, and picked up slack I’d normally be pissy over.

Today (whatever today you may read this), hug your significant other. Play with your kids. Remember that work is work, traffic is traffic, bills are bills, but life is precious. Roll down your car window, turn up the radio, soak up the sun or the rain, because it makes no difference which it is. From now on, I’m going to take a moment to pay happiness forward, and remember that whatever it is, I can take it with a grain of salt. Because (flinch at the word or not), life is a blessing. And in the blink of an eye, your blessings can change drastically.

Today, I Will Remember To Feel Lucky

It’s easy to be pissy today.

It’s Saturday, and I’m stuck at work. Instead of being at home with my family, listening to music and barbecuing, dancing with my son and husband, I’m typing and answering phones, all alone.

Its chilly today, and I can’t find my cardigan. I’m in a sweater that doesn’t match, and doesn’t have a button or zipper closure.

After I made myself an egg sandwich this morning, my son thought he could eat it all. Damn kids.

Do you want to slap me yet? Because it’s this train of thought that made me want to soundly whack myself in the cheek. If I were the super amazing DJ I wish I were (yes, I’m a grown woman who’d love to be a DJ), you’d hear that Fat Man Scoop rewind sound right about…now.

It’s Saturday, and I get a fairly (as it’s rarely completely calm in real estate) quiet work day to catch up on some stuff. Stuff that needed doin’, darn it. I’m able to take a few moments during a busy work day and recognize my blessings. And I have a job to be stuck at on a Saturday, which not everyone is lucky enough to possess. The barbecue and family will be there when I’m done.

It isn’t even really that chilly anymore. It’s gotten up to the high fifties, and the sun is shining. The wind has died down, the trees are dancing in the awesome sunlight, which is shining down un obscured from the gorgeous blue sky. And my sweater fits, is comfortable, and has kept me warm when I was lots chillier.

I was able to make breakfast this morning, and sit to enjoy it with my offspring. Who cares if he got yolk on my pant leg? That’s why the Brawny paper towel man is in existence. At least, one reason.

When I get home, I will get to enjoy dinner with family and friends, wash my yolk-ey pants, put on flip flops, and go to sleep safe and sound. I will wake in the morning, and remember that I am lucky to have these things, in addition to much, much more.


Today, I will remember to feel lucky, happy, and blessed.