Outta my Monday moanin' mind

Out of My Monday Moanin’ Mind

Scott from Scooter Chronicles had this to say about the late, great Bob Talbert (who's title I have stolen and changed just a tad)...
"He was a columnist for the Detroit Free Press. Originally from the south (he referred to himself as “Bubba”), he took the Detroit area by storm with his witty articles. Every Monday morning, his column was titled like my post. It was just a bunch of random thoughts. And it was geared to moaning about it being Monday again. Just about every other Monday, I think about that title. Talbert died in 1999, and I know a lot of people in Detroit that still miss him."
 
I hate Mondays...when I was a stay at home, I loved Mondays.
 
Monday was the day life went back to normal.
 
The daddy was working, the kids were in school, and I had my weary from the weekend ass parked on the couch.
 
Don't get me wrong, I didn't just lay there and veg all day, I grazed on chips and cookies and worked the remote control.
 
Then around 2:30 I'd get into gear and power clean the palace. Toss on a batch of gourmet HamburgerHelper and call it a "busy, tiring day".
 
My sister (now a stay at home) has dubbed Monday The Best Day Ever...that is until Christmas vacation or summer hits...then Monday becomes just another day catering to another person's needs or whims (or maybe it's a lot of other people's needs or whims, as is my case).

So just like every other working stiff...I now have to call the weekend The Best Day(s) Ever.
 
Anyway, my restful weekend brought about some interesting things...
 
1. I may be The Food Whisperer, my macaroni sent this. Everybody should know...  I always say food is love, and now I have proof, picture proof.
 
 
 

 
2. Bananas for baby monkeys...
 
 

 
It's a sin to waste food....just yesterday Googie's grandmother sent her home a mini banana. It was about as big as a fat finger. "It is real?" she asked.
 
3. I decided to live life on the edge and paint my nails an unusual (for me) color.....
 
 

 
Daddio didn't like my nail choice much and said that I looked like a reptile...
 
"A reptile? I asked "How so?"
 
I wasn't the greatest of students...and it is entirely possible that while we were studying different species of living creatures in Science class that I somehow was too busy watching a squirrel bury acorns, or a tiny spider spinning a web to take note of orange nailed reptiles....but you know, I trust my darling Daddio.
 
And so this morning I Googled Repitles with colored nails....some interesting crap came up...
 
Not anything nearly as interesting though as the time I Googled "Dicks" for the sporting goods store.
 
"Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time" ~ Monday Monday, by The Mamas and the Papas

So long Elizabeth......

Saturday Centus time, a themed writing meme. The challenge is to write 100 words to add to the prompt started by Jenny Matlock from off on my tangent.


The writing prompt is in itallics...

"Did you notice Elizabeth in class this morning and how forlorn she seemed?" Perhaps I will write her a comforting note, I thought

The minute I said it aloud I knew I shouldn‘t have.

Mrs. Lawson had been understanding about Elizabeth.

Today her shocked expression told me I’d gone too far.

Elizabeth, as usual, sat quiet as my classmates laughed.

She’d reached out her hand to me, when I reached back, they laughed harder.

Headmaster Thompson, dressed in his adult version of Hill Preparatory School for Boys’ uniform, entered our classroom.

Tapping his large ruler against his wide palm….

“NONSENSE!!!” he roared as he pulled out the empty seat next to me, and promptly squashed my poor Elizabeth with his big, flat butt.

Half a.....

I don't like the expression half-assed.

And believe it or not, I've been called that a time or two.

Like when I was a kid and my mom would order up a room cleaning. I'd be done quickly, cause that's just how I work. She'd come in to do the once over and things would be looking good until Cracker Ass, my not so half-assed sister challenged her to look under the bed or take a peek inside the closet.

Our mother would pull out the dirty clothes, the piles of papers, the dessert plates and coffee cups that I'd stashed in those spots.

She'd create a piggy mountain in the middle of the floor, furrow her brow and growl...

"Clean this up, do it right...this... is... half-assed!!!!"

"You don't ever want to be half-assed".

Daddio has said that same thing, but about different stuff.

He gets all pissy like when I fold his laundry and the legs of his jeans are twisted.

Who has the time to match seams?

Or the interest?

Well, I guess Daddio does.

Since his lay off he's been doing the laundry and our clothes have never looked better.

No random seams on the sides of the pant legs.

Everything is turned right side out.

He remembers to stain treat and separate.

And not once has he given Bear Googie's underwear.

Oh, how I despise competence.

And arrogance.

And those, who because they seem to effortlessly do a good thorough job, are never called half-assed.

Oh well, the world would be a boring place if it were filled with over achievers wouldn't it???

Yesterday morning while showering I had myself a little giggle.

I was shaving and in an effort to save myself a bit of time I only did the bottom half of my legs.

I was wearing capris so what the stinkin heck....??

Not half-assed, I thought....

half-ape.

Tee-hee... enjoy your Wednesday.

Sticks and stones instead????

"Is there anyone in the house besides us?" Daddio said, peeking over his shoulder and looking around the corner.

"Nope" I answered "just us".

"Come here, I want you to hear something" He said guiding me toward the antique chest that sits next to our fridge.

"Wait till you hear this....somebody needs some soap in their mouth" he said.

He walked toward the answering machine and began to push buttons.

"Hang on" he said "it's right here".

Daddio scrolled through the old messages, clicking "skip", until he got to number 10.

Then he upped the volume as high as it would go.

A female voice filled the mostly empty kitchen. Her words could have curled wallpaper or scoured a sink....cuss words abrasive and shocking.

I cringed and winched as the string carried on and on.

WOW..this freak is pissed, I thought.

And possibly insane.

A rambling rant of magnificent proportions.

Words that colored and hung in the air like a heavy mushroom cloud.

"JUST WHO IN THE HELL WERE YOU TALKING TO?" Daddio demanded to know.

Choosing my words carefully I answered his question.

Some dumb sonofabitch guy in a big red truck who was all up my ass tailgating.

My chastisement wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been...Daddio missed the sign language.

Note to self...make sure you hit that damn end call button TWO times.

I am who I am.....

Saturday Centus time, a themed writing meme. The challenge is to write 100 words to add to the prompt started by Jenny Matlock from off on my tangent.

The writing prompt is in itallics...

Guys don’t become fathers at 16, at least if they’re smart they don’t. There’d been so many days that I wanted to run, to escape my new life. Sometimes I found myself resenting the kid, then I’d remember it’s not his fault, he didn’t ask to be here. Stupid, stupid parents this poor kid has.

This day we‘re left alone, reluctant father and his small boy, all alone for the first time, We sit at opposite ends of a long wall sizing each other up a bit, he moved first, toward me.

Ironically,

it was Fathers Day, 1984, when I heard that voice in the hallway,

”DA…dada” he said, adding a toothless grin.

It's the 18th of June....

I remember having lots of conversations with my grandpa about the passage of time.

"It goes fast when you're old Babe" he'd say.

"So fast, that a week passing seems hardly more than a day going by."

Half of June is old news already.

Seriously, I'm tired of being a grownup.

And having weeks and months fly by.

I want to be bored.

And lazy.

I want to determine time by sleeping until the HOT sun is peeking in my bedroom window,

I want to play until the street lights come on.

And take more than a glance at some of these...

I want to take a moment to listen to this neighbor's song....

And I swear to God, come hell or high water...I'm going to get on top of this ball.

I will have Googie let you know to which hospital they take my stupid 50 year old self when I permanently injure my spinal cord or suffer a massive head injury.

So long for now... I need to start checking pockets and lifting couch cushions....I hear the ice cream man comes around about 2pm.

And the dirty rotten scoundrel has jacked the price of his Chocolate Éclairs no doubt.

June 18th....I promise to enjoy thee.

I see you......

"I don't like to take my Adderall " one of my loveable thugs said to me yesterday morning before class began, he was responding to my asking him how he was feeling.

" I don't like taking it at all. It makes me feel invisible" he said.

"Invisible?" I asked

"Yeah, I come home from school and there is nothing left of me. I don't talk. I don't feel. I am invisible". He explained.
 
"Why don't you try doing something that you love when you get home from here?" I asked.

"I was a good hockey player, a real good one. I was a freshman on the varsity team. Then my grades began to slip and I started smokin weed and then I didn't care anymore." the invisible man was spilling his guts.

"What about your artwork? I ask
 
"I've seen your drawings" I said "you are very talented."
 
"Yeah, I guess I am pretty good" he replied. "When I draw, I forget about everything else."
 
"I'm gonna get my ass kicked over five bucks" He told me.
 
"I made up a tattoo for someone and charged them five bucks. They paid me and then said they didn't like what I drew".

"So now this girl's sister's boyfriend is going to kick my ass." He seemed more angry than scared when he said this.

"Do you need five bucks to pay him back?" I ask.

"No" he answered "I got 5 bucks and I gave it back."

"Good" I said.

"What kind of tattoo was it" I asked.

"It was a tribute tattoo. I drew a heart and then In Memory Of and I put her dad's name in it. The tattoo was going to be tribute to her dad. He's dead, ya know...lots of people have those kinds of tattoos." he told me.

Then he continued "she wanted this tattoo to show how much she loved him and then she couldn't even remember the date of his death".

"That's pretty bad" I comment "a tribute tattoo and she can't even remember the date of the person she is permanently honoring, using needles and ink and suffering all kinds of pain for something that will mark her body till the end of time...wow.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, and when I said it it pissed her off and then she went bitchin to this Dave guy who told her that my tattoo sucked and since Dave runs his own clique they all listen to every thing he has to say no matter how stupid, then she had Dave call my girl's mom, and you know? I'm really tight with my girl's family and Dave calls there cause he wants the five bucks back and starts all kinds of shit. I think my dad's gonna kick Dave's ass, he's 18 so it's not like my dad's gonna kick some kid's ass."

"Hey, do you have anything to drink in here? " he askes changing courses suddenly "I don't have much of an appetite when I take this medicine, but I need to drink stuff, the Adderall makes my mouth dry" he said.

I made him up a big glass of chocolate milk to go.

"You'd better get going to class"  I tell him. "you're a half hour late"

"Thank you for listening to me" he said, then walked out the small kitchen door toward class.

Ohhhhh-boy....I thought to myself, and it's only 9am.