P!NK: Please Don’t Leave Me

P!NK’s new album FUNHOUSE is probably THE best CD I’ve heard in a long time… not one song I don’t like.

This is one of my favorites:

Enjoy

The Crack Whore’s Two Cents

… surprising that she even HAS it but that’s another post for another time!

So earlier, the boy’s crack whore mother goes to the shop and demands to know why Weed got kicked out.

Cheif explains to her that the PS3 was just the catalyst :: wasted breath.. she doesn’t know that word :: and that it was a culmination :: doesn’t know that word either :: of alot of things over a long period of time.

She tells him to call Weed because “… Weed feels hurt”

Chief goes off on her about how HE is hurt… how his brothers are hurt… how if Weed wants to talk he can call Chief.

It doesn’t end well… it never does.

She basically lives in a drug enduced euphoria LaLa Land where she isn’t responsible for anything… never sacraficed anything for her kids.. and basically survives by getting anything from anyone. Oh.. and frivolous lawsuits. Can’t forget about them.

The kids apparently inherited their “entitlement” gene from her.

May sound like I’m being harsh but it only takes being around her a few times before her methodology of living becomes apparent.

Case in point:

She constantly tells Spaz that she’s going to take him here.. take him there.. buy this for him.. buy that for him but never follows through. One night in particular, she promised she was going to pick him up at 6 to take him to the beach for the weekend. 6 o’clock came and went. She then called and said that she would pick him up after work at 9pm.

NOTE: She works sporatically. Usually when the courts get involved because she doesn’t pay her 43.00 a week child support payment. Yep. That’s not a typo. After 5 years of fighting, the courts finally granted Chief child support to the tune of FORTY THREE DOLLARS a week for three boys. Which she hasn’t paid unless there is a threat of being thrown in jail. Her excuse with finding a job has always been that she’s a felon but yknow… even WalMart hires felons.

Anyway.. on this particular day she was working cleaning houses. A job that only lasted about 3 weeks before she conveniently twisted her ankle on the job and sued both the person she worked for and the home owner.

But I digress…

Thing is, no one who cleans houses for a living cleans them at 9pm. And from the background noise, she wasn’t in anyone’s home.

So Spaz waited. Bags packed… out on the front steps. 9 came and went … 10 came and went.. 11 came and went and he finally fell asleep on the couch crying.

He called her cell the next day and the crack head boyfriend answered saying that she came in late and crashed on the couch and proceeded to tell a 10 year old things that he had no business to.

She’s also been thrown into a mental ward by the police for beating herself in the face with a remote control in an effort to leave a mark and blame it on the boyfriend beating her.

Also wouldn’t take the boys overnight in an emergency situation unless Chief gave her a few pounds of lunch meat, a galloon of milk and chips.

She’s done drugs with Weed, bought him a case of beer and a few bottles of whiskey for his 18th birthday and uses Spaz’s devotion to her against him.

I tolerate her at best… and never once have I talked bad about her to the kids. If anything, I vomit in my mouth whenever I tell them not to hate HER.. hate her ADDICTION.. and that she REALLY MEANS what she says WHEN she says it.

So now Weed is staying over there and it’s only a matter of time before either he gets sick of her OR she gets a taste of what we’ve been living with for a long time.

We’ll see how this plays out now.

Wanna Annoy Me?

… be nonchalant about something mind blowing

Side-Stepping Saint Anthony

… being raised Catholic, I was taught very early on that whenever something was lost you pray to St. Anthony.

Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony please come around…

Something’s lost and must be found!

Have NOT been a practicing Catholic for more years then I was, it was kind of surprising a few hours ago that I found myself reciting the above “prayer” when I was looking for my keys.

Didn’t find them.

Wasn’t surprised.

So a few minutes ago, when I was sitting her watching the latest Angelina Jolie video I thought, “… bag St. Anthony. Go right to the source.”

I prayed to God to help me find my keys. Sounds exaggerated but my job is really, REALLY on the line because of the amount of times I’ve called out at the last minute and in fact, I am on warning for it. So to email my boss and tell her the I wasn’t going to be in the office because I lost my keys caused a huge lump in my throat.

Since I have already ransacked the house and checked the trash :: nasty :: I figured I would look outside again. Retracing my steps from last night, steps that I retraced about 18 times since 7am… and steps that both Spaz and Bubba retraced with me I found my keys.

Right there.

On the grass.

Next to the car.

Not covered by leaves.. not covered by debris. Right there on top.

Goes to show you when you need something done, cut out the middle man and go right to the BIG GUY!

Welcome To The Crack Den

So… because I’m a virtual prisoner in my house because of the missing car keys, I decide to go up to Weed’s room.

I really don’t know why. It wasn’t like I wanted to pry or be nosy. That actually didn’t enter my mind until I started typing. I just did and almost vomitted when I openned the door.

The room is beyond 19 year old boy messy. It looks like one of those rooms you see on an A&E special about horders.

Or a Crack Den.

It’s sickening and I’m embarassed that this room exists in my house.

I’m embarassed that I didn’t know his room was like that.. after what happened a few months ago when he got arrested, why hadn’t we kept on him? Why didn’t we check whenever he came downstairs and said that he had cleaned his room?

Back when he first got arrested and we went into his room and saw it’s condition :: really, not better then it is now :: we eased our guilt by saying that at 19, he was an adult and entitled to privacy and he importantly, we still trusted him. He had done anything or was involved in anything to warrant constant supervision at that point.

But our eyes were opened then and there really isn’t any excuse or justification on our part now.

It is what it is and I can’t go back and change anything.

Maybe it’s a good thing that I don’t have batteries in my camera. Because I really did want to take pictures of it.

There’s trash all over the place… clothes all over the place.. enough dirty plates and cups to rival a diner… stuff spilled all over the carpets.. cigarette butts and ashes and this… other… stuff that I don’t even think I want to know what it is strewn about… empty 40oz beer bottles.. empty Jack Daniel bottles…

I literally just want to throw up.

The last time this happened, when Weed was in the bedroom down the hall from us on the first floor, it took us DAYS to clean it out. We scrubbed ever square inch of it… scrubbed the carpets… painted the walls and when the smell was finally out of it.. moved Spaz from upstairs to downstairs.

Theory being that when Weed came home from rehab, he would be upstairs without the ability to have people climb easily into his bedroom window or him out of it.

Bad move on our part … him being upstairs just meant that we werent able to easily see the conditions of his room…

Not that it matters… I’m only saying it to try and make sense out of everything that is going on.

Bubba and Spaz are already taking inventory on what they want from Weed’s room. They’re opportunists, the two of them and I think more disturbing then the condition of Weed’s room is how neither of them seemed to bothered that he got kicked out.

It’s sad..

And I’m at a loss