Because my sister and I are in such desperate need of an adult conversation...

We spent hours on the phone with each other.

Talk about a chick who feeds my snark.

I think I am more of a comedienne with her than with anyone else.

We talked about everything from Barbra Walters' vibrator to the economy to legalizing to snotty kids to *"The Redneck Joke with a Vagina" to the **Circling Money Buzzards that are waiting for FCBMom to retire to the dirt farm to the crabby penis people that currently are "enhancing our lives one 'OHFORTHELOVEOFFUCKQUITBITCHINGATME!!' moment at a time" to the fact that I have been overextending myself with caring for a woman that isn't related to me in any way.

Oh. And we talked about American Idol, too. She LIKES Adam. The creepy "Ring of Fire" singing, Elvis/Zac Effron impersonating contestant that makes my sphincter whimper and curl up in a ball to suck its imaginary thumb. He creeps me. Oh and in case I didn't mention it, I think he is really, really CREEPY. Like Michael Jackson on a bad day in court, creepy. Um-yeah.

I was supposed to go over to Older Sister's house today to visit and lend a helping hand with whatever she needed help with and to unleash the Punk on The Cousins. The best laid plans. Um-yeah.

So I was woken up this morning with a slightly girlish, alarming scream of disgustedness from FCB. Punk had an accident. I needed to wake up and tend to it all. OK, OK. I get that I am the Mom and things have to be done in only the way a Mom can do them, but Jesus-H.-Jumped-Up-Christ-On-A-Waffle-Iron!?! Did you have to wake me by screaming at me? I mean...I didn't need this old heart anyway. It was just taking up space in my chest cavity. Not like I needed that finicky bitch to keep beating, anyway. Scare the fuck out of me and see how cheerful I am for the day, why dontcha. Um-Yeah.

So now my plans for the day are all discombobulated. Monkey wrench--Life? Have you two met? Um-yeah.

So now my plans are to clean my van before my weekly mecca to Disney for the Punk's spring break. Clean my house. Make love to my coffee maker one pot at a time because that bad boy is keeping me conscious and out of jail for wanting to strangle the crap out of the residents of FCBSister's house. Visit the FCBMom who finally went home from the hospital while avoiding the cops that are surely going to arrive at the FCBSister/FCBMom's house because said residents are drunk at 2 in the afternoon because the jobless/drunk sacks of mooch have nothing better do but suck the teet of greediness and drain the FCBSis dry. All the while they are fighting like it's wrestling smackdown time and they got nothing better to do.

So.

The good news is: I can breathe again. The asthma attack finally subsided on Thursday.

The bad news is: I have to call my mom and see if she is willing to drive across town to wash and cut FCBMom's hair. My Mom has no filter from her brain to her mouth. (Gee, I wonder where I got that from?) One step into this house full of drunk rednecks and she is going to tell it like it is.

I should sell tickets.

Or at least film it to post on YouTube.

This should be interesting. Or at the least entertaining.

So that is just some random that is going on with me. I have to get off of the computer now and join the real world for a bit. Wish me luck. Oh, and say a prayer for my coffee maker. He's gonna need it.




*Redneck Joke with a Vagina(RJWAV) is the "home helper" that FCBSis has brought into her house to help out with the care taking of FCBSis and FCBMom. The woman has no job, is finishing school for an "exciting career in criminal justice", and just got turned down for food stamps that she blew off a job interview for to go get. Think of every redneck joke you have ever heard, remove all the teeth, and add a vagina and there you have this woman. I could write volumes on this "person" (and I used that term loosely...just like she is...) but I will save that for another post.

**Circling Money Buzzards are the RJWAV and the FCBSister's Husband. Neither have a job. Both are anxiously waiting on FCBMom to die because they both thing they are going to hit lottery payday when it happens. The Drunk Husband even tried selling us all his MIL's furniture and possessions last night. Just like they were his to sell. He wanted $1000 for an old couch from the 1960's. I restrained myself from wetting my pants with laughter. He thinks that there is some secret stash of cash and it will be all his the day his MIL passes. The RJWAV thinks she is going to get her cut. They are complete jokes and knuckle dragging occupants of Darwin's waiting room. They hate each other, yet live in the same house. The cops have been called out numerous times because they get all hopped up on Mad Dog 20/20 and start going at each other. FCBSis is beside herself. She doesn't want conflict in front of her Mom and she has asked her brother, the FCB(Fat Cranky Bastard if you are new here), to be the muscle/body guard/security because her 90 pound husband is actually terrified of his 400+ pound crankiness.



Does anyone else hear that faint "Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!" chanting in the background? It's just me? Um-yeah.