"For the school talent show in December I need..."

We're not in the car 10 seconds on the way home from school, when he explains:

"Our music teacher is having a talent show in December at our school. And I really believe I should participate."

Janko: "Wait. I thought the Talent Show is in May and it has nothing to do with the music teacher. Remember that kid played 'Knockin on heaven's door' and got a standing ovation?"

Andrew: "Oh, Mom, that show is still happening. This is just another one. For that show I am going to do a dance routine with several other kids or something involving gymanstics and high kicking."

Janko: "Well, like we talked about last year, you can't just get up and lip sync a song and jump around. You need a choreographed routine."

Andrew: "For this show in December you have to have an instrument to perform. So I need a piano. I saw one at Costco a few weeks ago. The guy playing it was wearing a tuxedo and I talked to him for a while about his piano. It was $9,999.00 but that's because his keys were made straight from elephant tusks. There was a junkier one for $4,500. That's probably a better choice for me since I'm not sure how much I will like playing the piano."

Janko: "Why do you have to have an instrument? If it's part of the music program you should be able to just sing. We can work on picking out a song together for this. And who is this music teacher anyway? Why haven't I received any information about this show? Are you making this whole thing up?!"

Andrew: "Mom! Our music teacher is GREAT! And I asked if I could borrow the piano she has in the music room and she told me to loook around at our house for casio keyboard or a recorder or something. If you can't afford the piano, I was thinking I could use that guitar in the basement. Granted there's a string missing, but Dad should be able to string a new one."

Janko: "Yeah, it's looking like you'll be using the 3 string guitar. And I wouldn't count on Dad to fix it. I've been asking him to hang some pictures for 4 years and he still hasn't done it. But I'll dig up that guitar and we can figure out how to restring it together."

Andrew: "Okay, good. So next steps are: I write down the name of the instrument and the song I will perform and turn it in. You have to sign it. And I want to play the guitar to 'Sexyback' by Justin Timberlake. Can you make sure to have Dad get time off work for this? And you should bring Katherine cause she loves that song. It makes her so happy whenever you play it in the car."

Just Don't Answer the Door, Stacey. It's that easy.

Grand advice from Toad.

In the last month, I have had the following solictors ring my bell:

-->hungry howies offering a free small cheese pizza if i buy 10 at regular price. but i have to call right now and order the 10 pizzas.

-->a plastic siding company that can spray my house with rubber and seal it up so i never have to paint it again. the rubber will last at least 26 years. not even golf size hail balls can chip it. i can even transfer the warranty to the next poor soul who buys the pad.

-->two degenerates pushing an italian eatery i wouldn't send my mother in law to.

-->a window salesman that needs me to allow him to quote all new windows because he gets $3 for every homeowner that agrees to this.

-->a pothead/dopesmoker who claims he is going to single-handedly clean out all of the sewer systems in Michigan because when we pour old frying oil down the drain it is killing our minnows in the great lakes. I just need to sign his petition so he can protest in front of Jenny Granmole's office window.

-->a 14 year old from mobile alabama that quizzed me on his presentation skills and dressing abilities. then he wanted me to buy magazines to send to 3rd world countries. the recipients can't read, but they like to stare at the pictures he tells me.

-->a "tar and roofing specialist" that wants to put a new roof on the house - even though we just did this 3 years ago and it needs to be replaced every 20 years.

-->and the best one - the CE meter man that likes my weed wacker.

I want out of here. No wonder houses are getting robbed. These dirts are casing our houses out all day long.

I blame Kwame.

"My stomach really hurts and I

think I need some medicine. You know how you have that feeling that you just want to throw up? I feel that feeling, now." (Andrew)

Janko: (thinking) Awww hells no. You've got a birthday party in 14 hours and you and i both need you to attend this party. you need to suck up that shitty feeling and get on with it.

Andrew: "Mom, you may want to drive faster to get home. Especially since you just vaccuumed out your car yesterday. I feel like something is gonna happen."

Janko: THROWS ON HAZARDS ASAP. Kicks up speed by 15 immediately.

Andrew: "Do you know what time Duke is playing Butler? I betcha Duke's gonna route little Butler, Mom. They won't know what hit 'em. Basketball is so fascintaing."

Janko: Oh, I see this bullhonkey a mile away. This little dirt wants to stay up so he plays the barf card. And I sure as hell know Toad wont be having any of this.

Janko: "Andrew, when we pull in the driveway, you hop out and go up to bed. You need to sleep if you feel so bad."

Andrew: "But my head is really banging and I only get relief when I am sitting straight up on the couch."

Toad enters picture and shoots me a bullhonkey look.

I tell Andrew he can watch TEN MINUTES of this riDICKulous game and then he weasels his way into my bed. That way if he vomits, it can ruin my bed and carpet. And the extra bonus is that I'll be IN the bed with him and am bound to get some type of residual effect.

15 minutes later, as Andrew is rolling back in forth in our bed moaning, Toad walks up with the laptop oblivious to what is actually happening. He says, "You wanna use the computer for anything?"

I smile and so no thanks, but am thinking - YOU have got to be kiding me. I am in bed with our 7 year old who's gonna blow it out any minute and you wanna throw the laptop in the mix? Good thing I got suckered into buying that damn "tuxedo service warranty plan" at besy buy for this thing. but i betcha this situation would never be covered.

So, here I am. 2:29AM. Booted out of my bed by a snoring diagonal sleeping 7 year old. Come downstairs to jump on the computer and get blog bitch back in order and Toad's sawwing 2 by 4's on the couch with the 3rd repeat of ESON sportscenter blowing up the tv screen.

life is grand.

Mom, I never told you and you need to know

I put the weasels to bed over an hour ago. I plopped down on the couch to jump into my guilty pleasure - facebook, TMZ, etc.

And just when I think those sweetie pies are out for the count, I hear:

"Mom, I totally forgot to tell you this today and it' really important."

Me (THINKING): Awww shit. Don't even tell me that I need to pick up 3 dozen muffins for the Math Club tomorrow morning. Or, wait. Is tomorrow my day to help with the Math Centers? Cause I have nobody to watch Curly and Big Daddy can't be staying back to watch her. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Andrew: "Mom I was the only one to get 100% on my bragging paper today. THE ONLY ONE. This happens to also be a record breaker for the school. No one in the history of my school has ever done this before. I am the first one. This is a REALLY big deal. You see Jack didn't get 100% because he screwed up the triangle. I knew it belonged in the ten spot and not the 100s but he had no idea. Do you know what I mean, Mom? How some people think the ten spot is the same as the 100 spot?

Me (thinking): What the HELL is he talking about?! But I just keep smiling and nodding and giving a thumbs up cause the kid hasn't even taken a breath yet and it's clear he's got a lot more to say.

Andrew: "Then Julie thought it was okay to put the red where the green should be. I knew she was so wrong but I had self control and let her do her own thing."

Me (thinking): Is this kid in a dream? Again, what the HELL is he talking about?!

Andrew: "Then my teacher made this announcement to everyone in my class congratulating me on getting this 100%. I was so flamin hot excited Mom. It was like I was on this huge awesome roll and no one could stop me. Dad says sometimes he feels like that at work. Like he just nailed an important sale and no one can get him down. Not even his boss."

Me (thinking): "I am really happy for you breaking that record. You worked hard and it paid off. Keep up the great work and dedication. But now I really want you to get to bed."

Andrew: "This is why I got out of bed and told you this. I knew you would think it was really cool and I know this kind of news cannot wait to be shared. And I also wanted to tell you, next year could you sign me up for after school care? All you need to do is get a job and then I would have to go to after school care. I mean just work anywhere doing anything. After care is the best because you get another recess in addition to the one before lunch. And I talked to the teacher for it. She said the rates are really reasonable."

The Liberry Can Suck It

We were early for Miss Beverly and Her Music Machine. By about 20 minutes. Any mom or dad of a young kid knows those 20 minutes can go south real fast. They can be brutal. Here we are at the library looking for a way to kill those 20 minutes. The puppets and stage and aquarium ain't cuttin it. The computers for the older kids are always a hit for my 22 month old, but the librarians shoot nasty ass faces at me if I let her google shit, etc.

So we start to make our way to the lobby for this FREE 45 minute class for 2 and 3 year olds. There have to be 150 people just piled in. No sign of organization, no sign of any library workers ushering the greggs and their kids in. So we wait. But I'm on borrowed time. And I'm starting to think it's cow dung that we can't at least go into the room where Beverly and her banjo are sitting. When we finally get up to the front of the line and are 3 steps from walking into the room, a woman with a clipboard asks me for my confirmation number.

Here we go, people. Yet another showdown.

Clipboard Lady: Hello there, I need your conf # please.

Janko: Yes, I recd a confirmation #.

Clipboard Lady: Okay, well what is it then?

Janko: Seriously? I wa ssupposed to bring it with me? The instructions did not say to do that. It was LGX45971PT I think.

CL: Okay, as she scrolls down her clipboard. I believe I have you on here. Now please give me your child's conf #."

Janko: To register for the class we had to use our library card. So I signed myself up but she (holding Katherine and moving her closer to Clipboard Lady)doesn't have a library card so I didn't sign her up. I mean, she's only 22 months old. What child at that age has a card?

CL: Clearly, you did not follow the rules for registration so I need you to stand against this wall. Once I sign in the rest of the attendees - all 167 of them - I will let you know if we have room for your little one.

Janko: Okay, so basically I am able to get into those Music Madness show but my kid can't? Does this really make any sense? I would attend the show and leave my child out in the hallway?

CL: Please step back and get against that wall. With your daughter.

Janko: Katherine says in a voice as clear as day to the Clipboard Lady - "I hit."

CL: We are going to need you to keep her away from the other kids if you actually make it inside. We find once one child exhibits voilent behavior many other children choose to display inappropriate behavior as well. We would not want her to sabotage Beverly's show.

Janko: No, she just says that but she can control herself. I always keep a close eye on her. Now Katherine leans in and says, "I burp. Scooze me!"

CL: Mam, there are about 75 people waiting to get checked in behind you. PLEASE step aside.

Janko: So do you think we'll make the cut? Cause if our chances are slim to none I'll blow outta here right now. No sense in standing aroiund when I could be back home getting dinner ready, you know?

CL: Just get away.

As I walk away I start getting really steamed. Total bullshit that they allow so many kids in this program. Such bullshit that you need to bring in your conf #. Who the hell brings that when they don't tell you to. As I look around, I see a sea of dirts. All itchin to get that front row seat right next to the banjo.

F the banjo. I don't need this crap. I have a ukelelea my sister bought Andrew about 5 years ago. So we tear outta there and I walk ini the house, head for the basement and start ripping strings on the ukelelea.

And the damn kid squares off and hits me.

They're Like God's Personal Rules For Us...

Picking up Andrew from chatechism this week, his teacher tells me they reviewed the 10 Commandments.

So, while we're driving home I probe. All good parents probe to a degree. I usually don't get much in return, but this night was a completely different story.

Mama Janko: "So, Mr. Hamilton said that you guys talked about the 10 Commandments tonight in class. What'd you think?"

Andrew: "Well, first we played football with this little nerf ball. It was cool cause if you threw it hard enough and close enough to your victim, it really packed a punch. But yeah, we eventually talked about Jesus's little rules."

Mama Janko: "So what do you remember about the rules? Do you remember any specific ones?"

Andrew: Well, first off you shouldn't be concerned with what everyone else has. Even if the kid down the street has way better Pokemon cards than you do, just let it go. LET IT GO, Mom. It's not worth getting uptight about."

Mama Janko: "Of course. Because "things" can't make you happy. For me, my family makes me happy. I feel blessed to have you and Katherine and Dad and my sisters and parents in my life."

Andrew: "Okay, but sometimes do those people piss you off? I know Katherine does cause I hear you say under your breath, "God better give me the strength to handle this one." I know it's not you, Mom. She's an animal sometimes. She could drive anyone crazy."

Mama Janko: (trying to diffuse the situation): "I am blessed thatmy family is healthy."

Andrew: "Okay, here's the other one. Don't be all interested in married men. And be especially careful with this in our neighborhood. You know who is married, Mom. And you know that you should let those people stay married. Don't try to date the husband. You have Dad and you should be happy with him. And the same goes for Dad. He needs to realize that he is stuck with you forever. If you start getting interested in married people, things can get all jacked up."

Mama Janko: "Right. Just leave the married people alone. They are happy and nobody should interfere."

Andrew: "See Mom, you understand adultery, don't you?"

Mama Janko: "So did Mr. Hamilton talk about obeying your mom and dad?"

Andrew: "I feel like I understand all of these rules. And I'm pretty much over it. At this point, I really want to know when I can wear one of those robes and go on the altar and hold the bible for the priest to read out of during mass? Oh, and I asked Mr. Hamilton, if that is wine that you guys are drinking when you go up for Holy Communion. He told me it was. So I want to know if Dad sells wine to our priest? Cause that would be really weird. But if he doesn't, he should talk to his boss about gettin that account. He could do tastings with the priest and upsell him."

It's not about speed, it's about endurance

If you know me well, you know I hate to sweat. It really bothers me. But I realize now I need to sweat here and there. I must exercise. So over the last several months I have been trying my damndest to run.

I went online, googled "5k training for lazy asses" and found an 8 week training course which could get me off the couch and into a race. I religiously got up in the dead of winter 5 days a week and ran at 6 AM. This is a real milestone for me. I did it and dammit, I am proud.

I also ran in (2) 5ks this summer. I was real slow and steady. I even let the 95 pound man waving a 6 foot american flag and singing Lee Greenwood's "Proud to be an American" pass me by. It was embarassin but it had to be done. And when I finished my first race, I nearly collapsed on the pavement. Seriously, the last mile was a blur. The people around me were fuzzy. All I could see was a Dunkin Donuts which I believe to this day pulled me through.

Now I know my training method was nothin spectacular, but I figured it had to be allright - shit it was on the internet.

Well, tonight was the first night of Running Club. I was nervous to join, but being a stay at home mom, I need that light at the end of the tunnel. You know the one that says, "Tonight, after making beds, doing laundry, vaccuuming, driving your kid to and from the comic book store that's a half hour away AND making dinner, you are GETTING out." And those words kept me charging forward all day.

So I showed up and we all introduced ourselves. We also had to provide a brief overview of our prior running experiecnce. I kept mine to a minimum (unlike chatty Paul, one of the coaches). I also wanted to be real and admitted I am a cooped up SAHM and I feel like a crazy bitch sometimes so I need to exercise.

So we started running. It's this run/walk approach, which I have never done. The training I did preciously included running like an asshole for as long as I could.

Well, wouldn't you know sweet ass Paul (one of the coaches) corners me half way into the run tonight. He weaves in and out of the other greggs to get his two cents in on my previous approach.

It goes somethin like this:

95 pound Paul: "You know last week I ran 55 miles and I never got hung up on how fast I ran."

Janko: "Yeah, well I wouldn't either, man. The fact that you clocked thay many miles is yo yo unbelieveable."

Paul: "So you do understand this is not a race. This is about endurance. It doesn't matter how fast you go. It's about pushing your body to continue for longer and longer."

Janko: "Right, but I do believe they have clocks at the end of each race so you can see how you did. Did you ever notice those, Paul?

Paul: "I have my own watch. It's located between my ears. I run according to what my bod is telling me. You need to stop worrying about your speed and listen to what's going on between YOUR ears."

Janko: "Right,Paul. The last time I was able to concentrate or focus on something for more than 10 seconds was in 2002, before I had my 1st child, Paul. Life was simpler than. Nobody crying and moanin except the jackasses at work. Now I spend my time strategizing on how I can spend my days entertaining my two kids. What's gonna make them happy? What's gonna make them fight? Cause if they start fightin and shooting and shit, Paul, it's all she wrote for me. Then my husband walks in and wonders why I'm not shizznitted out and happy to see him."

Paul: "How old are your kids?"

Janko: "20 months with a bad ass attitude and a 6 year old that never allows more than 5 seconds of dead air."

Paul: "Can you put them in a double stroller and exercise with them?"

Janko: "So, Paul, I think you're missin the whole point here. I joined this running debacle to get AWAY from my kids. I need to CLEAR MY HEAD, man. And besides that, the weight in that stroller would be nearly 100 pounds."

Paul: "Precisely, then there's no way you could be a speed demon. If you focused on speed you would die with those two in the basket."

The running comes to a close and he follows me to my car. Here's the closing thought for the night:

Paul: "You know, your whole approach needs to change. You are going to sicken the group. I noticed a few people playing close attention to you. You're influential and I want to make sure we're all on the same page with this. I want to get your email so we can talk about this more OFFLINE and away from the group. And I don't want to see you speeding down Tienken or Adams in the next few days. I frequent those roads and I WILL pull over and give you a stiff talking to. Now gimme your email. I can tell you're gonna be my challenge."

I told Paul I don't have an email address. In fact, I told him I don't even own a computer. I used one at work and was never real impressed so why would I have one at home. Plus, there is a lot of dirty stuff floating around on the internet. I even dropped the words cyber sex.

Then I came home and had a big bowl of ice cream.

Man, I love this running club.

My Name is Stanley, but I would like you to call me Stan

The actual last name of Stanley will not be revealed in this post. For obvious reasons.

The crew is headed up north for the 4th of July and while my hubby will be able to play a few rounds of 18, I, too, would like to do something for myself. For some strange reason, I feel running (or as I like to call it, a fast as hell walk)a 5k will fit the bill.

So we stay in a development just 30 minutes outside of Alpenis (Alpena for all you politically correct greggs). It's called Lost Lake Woods. And there's really no need to leave LLW because they have everything you could ever need. Golf course, driving range, skeet shooting, lake, horse stables, etc. And a gift shop with a dorm freezer stuffed with ice cream sandwiches. They also have a 4th of July Parade but we can deal with that later.

As I was surfing the internet lookin for interesting happenings the 4th of July weekend, I came across a 5K in Alpenis. Since it's a small town, you can't go online for more info. You have to call. I figured it was the number to the local chamber. Man was I ever wrong...

Janko dials random number:

Very Very old man answers: "Ummmmm.... errrr....hello."

Janko: "Hi, I am calling about your 5k on the 4th of July. I saw it on the internet and I'd like to sign up. Is there a website I can go to to do this?"

Old Man: "Ahhhhh...No."

Janko: "Okay, well how can I sign up then?"

Old Man: "You can come on down to the post office on 2nd street and make sure you bring your pocketbook and your shirt size."

Janko: "Well, that won't work cause I live in Detroit and I cannot just shoot over to the post office. Can we handle this on the morning of the race?"

Old Man: "We most certainly cannot, lady. You need to get here early. Plus, if you sign up prior to the race, I can save you $3."

Janko: "I like the idea of saving money since it's a real economic mess down here in Detroit right now, but again, I cannot get up there early. And sir, who am I speaking with?"

Old Man: "My name is Stanley Muchgettekin. But I would like you to call me Stan."

Janko: "Okay, Stan. Will you be running the race yourself?"

Stan: "I am damn near gonna try, honey. Now listen to me. You got anyway to get yourself on a computer and get an email?"

Janko: "I do. I am on FB all the time. You wanna send me something, Stan?"

Stan: "I don't know much bout Facebookin, but I can try to send you a little email once my wife gets back from IGA. I will also add a small attachment. You know how to open them things up?"

Janko: "I do. If it's an application I will fill it out and mail you my check. That way you get my money well before the race. Sound good?"

Stan: "As much I want to take that money of yours, I also need to know yer shirt size."

Janko: "Right, right. I will include that info on the app."

Stan: "Now I am concerned bout your arrival the day of the race. Will you be comin from Detroit?"

Janko: "No. I will be driving from Lost Lake Woods."

Stan: "So yer willin to miss their big 4th of July Parade? Dang! That's been goin on for upwards of 60 years."

Janko: "Yeah, I am taking my chances and missing it. But can we get back to the race? I can make it to Alpenis on my own, I just don't know where to go once I get downtown. But I have Onstar so why don't you gimme the address where the runners meet and I'll be fine?"

Stan: "You got what?!"

Janko: "Onstar. It will provide turn by turn directions if I tell them the address."

Stan: "Tell who?"

Janko: "Stan, this is really counterproductive right now. I have 2 kids that really need my attention. I just need the address from you."

Stan: "When the roads splits, head right. You can ask anyone to help you from there."

Janko: "I really need an address, Stan. That's what Onstar requires."

Stan: "Listen, I don't know who this wacky friend of yers is named Onstar but if you listen to me, I will get you there."

Janko: "Is your wife home yet, Stan?"

Stan: "Now the route is gonna be rela purty. Right on the waterfront. It will be a trail race. I mean, we will run in cement. You know a trail like."

Janko: "Okay, why don't you email me and I can get my money AND shirt size to you."

Stan: "I think I hear somethin. Damn ball and chain's back. She's been a real pain in my keister lately. See I am spending all this time on the race here and ignorin her. Ladies like attention."

Janko: "Yeah, aint that the truth. And get it while you can."

Stan: "I'm startin to notice you and me. We think alike."

Janko: "Okay, I have to hang up now. Don't forget about that email, man.

Stan: "Right. Listen. Tell me your name now so I can look for you on the day of the race. "

Janko: "My friends call me Janko, Stan. And for damn good reason."

Who are you people?!

Ahhhhhh...the joys of a family vaca. Getting all that closeness with eachother in a week's time. And the closeness is that much more special when you drive 22 hours to get to your family vacation destination.

We thought we could do it. We thought the drive would save us some coin. Everyone knows only biggashottas fly. The common folk pack a cooler and head south on 75. Hell, we even thought we could drive straight thru. Why not? We have 18 dvds in the car and 2 DVD players.

The ride was a joy. The hotels we stayed in were klassy, but the real kick in the knockers was when we finally made it to Florida and Andrew said, "All I really wanna do down here is swim in the pool." Fine by us. We agreed. So we unpacked the car and packed up all the shiznit for the pool. And believe me, we only had a few towels and a boogie board and a shovel which we happened to find in the back of the storage closet.

We trek down to the pool and slither in. Now this is the place I have been coming to for years with my sisters and parents. It's my grandparents place that now is my parents. It's older folks, but generally speaking they keep their cool.

We were in the pool for 2.5 minutes when two dirts come barreling out of the clubhouse.

Male Dirt: "Who are you people?"

Janko: he can't be serious greeting us this way. this behavior must be ignored.

Male Dirt: "Are you renters or owners?"

Janko: "Neither"

Female Dirt: "Where are you staying?"

Janko: "Over there." Pointing in the opposite direction of our condo.

Female Dirt: "You know we have rules around here. Did you read the pool rules before you came down here?"

Janko: "No."

Male Dirt: "You need to get that surfboard out of this pool right now."

Andrew swims over to me and asks me what is going on and if the police are going to come.

Janko: "Right. Right. And who are you? Are you the maintenance man?"

Toad is now huffing and puffing and nostrils are flaring.

Female Dirt: "I want to know if you read the pool rules."

Andrew thinks she is now talking to him and says, "I can't read stuff like that. I am just in Kindergarten and only know how to do easy reader books. You know the kind at the library that have that red line on them. The green ones are more challenging. But I know in time, I'll be able to read them. My Mom tells me to be patient and it'll happen."

Female Dirt: "You need to tell me where you renters are staying and I am going to drop off a copy of these pool rules in your unit."

Toad: "No. You don't need to do that. We'll take the boogie board out. If we're not sure what to bring in, we'll find you and run it by your first."

Male Dirt: "You know it's not right for you Northerners to come down here and start breaking our pool rules. These rules have been in place for 30 years and if you want to chnage em you need to come to a Board Meeting and petition."

Janko: "I've been coming here for 25 years and I know ALL about the pool rules. Now when is your next board meeting so we can all take a listen and make sure everything's running like a charmn down here."

Female Dirt: "I am the manager so I will stick a note in your condo with the Board Meeting schedule."

Toad: "Lady, you're not coming over to our condo. We don't need you dropping off paperwork. Me and her(points at me)are just trying to enjoy a little time with our family in the sunny weather. Now you two come rolling outta that clubhouse like you've got a serious bone to pick with us. I am sure both of you can appreciate our effort. Me and her have been in the car for 22 hours with these kids. Now my son wants to enjoy the pool and you're out here rantin and ravin about a boogie board. I told you I would take it out and I did. Now you need to step off."

Andrew says to me, "Mom, I think WE need to call 911. These people are absurd."

Male Dirt: "Have you people tried the Riverview Club down the road? It's private, but if you pay some money they will let you in. They have a pool down there, too."

Toad: "Gregg, now you're talking crazy. We are swimming in this pool. Right here. We are not loading up our stuff and driving down to a fancy shmantzy country club down the road."

Now the male and female dirt start backing up and organizing hoses, watering bushes, swatting at flies, etc.

I'm super pissed so I call my Mom and tell her she needs to get down here and rip these dirts apart. She acts all shocked that anyone gave us lip and told me to stop swimming there and find something else to do like walk on the beach as a family and collect seashells.

Here it comes, "Collect seashells? SERIOUSLY? I'll do that allright, but how can I deny my kids the opp to swim in the friggin pool?!"

Janko's Mom: "Well, I'm gonna call your sisters and see if they ever had these problems when they were down there. In the meantime, if those two folks come back, just smile and try to make small talk. They are probably irritated by your aggressiveness. You know down south they are much sweeter and slower than we are."

So my Mom calls back a day later and tells me that no one else in the family was busted at the pool. So clearly we are out of control and need to think about our actions more carefully.

Janko to Mom: "So no one has ever been scolded at the pool?! Come on. That has to be complete bullshit."

Janko's Mom: "No. The only thing I was told was there is a person down there that your brother in law saw on the golf course that looked like a transvestite. And he wasn't sure if he was transitioning into a man or woman. The transition must be early on. So if you see someone down there that matches this description, be kind to him or her. You know that would be just awful going through that. I saw an episode on Oprah once about that and it really tore me up."

Janko: "Yeah, I saw that guy. We call him Red Headed Woody. He's all messed up."

Janko's Mom: "Listen. You're down there to enjoy yourself. Stop worrying abut all of this other nonsense."

Janko: "Right. I'm just gonna go lay by the pool in my jeans and sweatshirt."


Two weeks after we get home, my Mom calls.

Janko's Mom: "Well, you must have really created a stir down in FL cause your father and I just got a letter from the President of the Board about an EMERGENCY BOARD MEETING RE: POOL RULES and REGULATIONS. I sure hope you didn't do anything to embarass me or your grandparent's good name.

I am now saving my pennies for a trip to Cedar Point.

He's coming over on Friday so you need to stay home all day and wait for him

These could be the words that every stay at home mom dreads. Or at least I do. Being homebound all day is really a recipe for disaster for me. I need to leave the house and do at least one errand. I must mix with the outside world. If I don't, it's like this awful depression sinks in and I get crabby and down and just flat-out pissed off.

So when Toad told me I have to make myself homebound this Friday, I was hot.

For the last 3 + years, Toad has wanted to put in lights throughout the landscaping. I think his dream visual is to have the house lit up like a menora on the 10th day of Hanukah. And I'm okay with this. In fact, it's probably a good idea considering all of the recent break-ins in the hood. But the issue is the fact that we don't have enough electrical outlets.

So, here comes Toad....

There is a man at Toad's work (let's call him Gregg) that feels Toad has really shown him the ropes when it comes to hustling wine. When he's got a question or needs help, apparently Toad drops everything and takes care of him. As a result, Gregg wants to pay it forward. Well, more like pay it even. He wants to do a lil somethin somethin for Toad.

Ding Ding Ding!

So Toad tells me tonight that Gregg's gonna come over this Friday and put in a few electrical boxes outside.

Here's the conversation:

T: So, I need you to stay home this Friday and wait for Gregg to come over.

J: Who is Gregg and what's he going to be doing at our house?

T: This is the guy that I work with that is super cool. He's gonna put in those electrical boxes I've been meaning to have done since we moved in.

J: Umm. How much is this gonna set us back? Because right now electrical boxes aren't real high on the priority list. But a car top carrier is for our trip in 3 weeks.

T: RELAX. He's doing it for free. He wants to do me a favor since I always help him.

J: Does this Gregg know what he's doing?

T: Yeah, yeah, of course, Stacey. He used to do electrical work all the time. But with the economy drying up, he scrapped the electrical business and moved into wine. He's a good guy. Man, he's super cool.

J: Yeah, you told me he was cool, but this is serious. Jacking with electrical could be fatal.

T: Oh no, he won't hurt himself. Listen, last year, Brian at work, well his entire bathroom caved in. It's a long story but the roof collapsed and his toilet fell through to the basement. Gregg rewired everything. The bathroom is awesome now. And Brian hasn't had any problems. Well, he's divorced now but it had nothin to do with the bathroom.

J: Well good for Brian, but I'm still a little concerned about this.

T: You know, to be safe, why don't you call Vince at State Farm tomorrow and make sure we're all paid up on our homeowners insurance.

J: Are you fucking kidding me?! You know I am tired of these "jack of all trades" guys doing work here. Last year you sent the guy that owns the fish dept at Nino's to blow out the sprinklers. I found him in the basement playing pool by himself. We need to start hiring professionals. Not these hackballs. And I was thinking about taking off on Friday and hitting Birch Run.

T: Fine, I'll just get done early on Friday and help him myself. We get along real good, so we'll be fine.

J: Thinking in her head ("Great, this is the same man that can't hang a picture or assemble a crib, but he's gonna be Gregg's chewbacca and light up the yard. Shit. We're doomed.")

Some people are just BORN Idiots

Ahhhhhh, taking your kids to a restaurant and trying to eat a good meal. If you have any children under the age of 5 you know the experience will be anything but enjoyable for you - if you're the mama. Somebody's gonna be bitching the nuggets are too hot, another's gonna be pulling a Houdini trying to get out of the germ ridden high chair. And you know the waitress isn't gonna go the extra mile. She sees you and your hot mess brood and she thinks, "shitty tip and nasty ass clean up after the dirts leave."

I really believe one of the best days of my life will be when I can go to a restaurant with my family (nothing fancy either) and really savor every bite of my quesadilla. Nobody will need anything. They'll cut their own food. Leap up and clean the chocolate milk they managed to dump on the table. The waitress will set a Diet Coke caraffe next to my entree. The conversation will be interesting. None of this, "what is a racist, mom?" or "why do women feed their babies with bottles and their bodies?"

I was on my way out of the grocery store, cruising along out of the parking lot, when I see a 7 or 8 year old sitting on the curb outside of Boston Market. The scene resembled what people do with their dogs outside of DQ. You know, how they lasso them to a big piece of cement and then go in to inhale a blizzard or peanut buster parfait.

And the cement post this kid was sittin up against was super close to traffic. In fact, if he kept his knees straight and extended his legs, a car would run them over.

This situation really struck me. He wasn't selling any M & Ms, either. The kid even looked sad. So, I rolled down my window and asked the boy, "Honey are you okay?"

Young boy: barely looked up and said softly, "yeah, i'm just sitting here."

Janko: "Honey, are you by yourself? Do you need help?"

Young boy's big bad ass brother: (appears out of the corner) "No, lady, we're fine."

Janko: "Okay, but where is your mom?" (at this point, Andrew has the window down and is asking them where they go to school, what grade they're in, and if they are on Safety Patrol.

Boys: "Our Mom is inside finishing up her chicken pot pie. She told us it was a nice day outside and we should sit out here and wait for her."

Janko: (thinking, you have GOT to be kidding me. some lazy ass is suckin down her meal and she doesn't want her kids around her. talk about a dipshit.) "Okay, well be super careful cause the traffic is kind of crazy around here."

Boys: (give no reply except to get closer to the back of the car where Andrew's window is still down and say, "Dude, that's a sweet shirt you're wearing. Did you see the last episode of the Clone Wars last Friday?"

Now it's a full blown conversation with Andrew and lawrd knows he thinks he hit the jackpot. I start to slowly pull away and Andrew is still carrying on.

As we're driving home Andrew says, "See, Mom, first you thought it was a bad decision for their Mom to have them sit outside. I know you were thinking in your head, 'POOR CHOICE.'" I could just tell. But really, it wasn't a bad idea cause they made a new friend with me. If they were inside, we never woulda met. Pretty incredible how things work out sometimes, eh Mom? I bet you could call that a miracle even."

Euro Traffic Circles are Bullshit

Here I am - off to the Bouncin Party Zone during midwinter break. We're gonna pay a measly $7 and Andrew will be able to run wild and sweat a good 3 pounds off his frame in just 2 hours.

The tricky part is getting there. It shouldn't be though. I can picture the place in my head. But thanks to some jackass road engineer in Sterling Heights, it could be hours before we arrive. And to think, we're just a 1/2 mile away.

Like I just mentioned, some complete moron/dumbass thought it would be a bright idea to install one of those european style traffic circles at Van Dyke just north of 18 Mile.

All's going well in the car. I am humming along, following my OnStar directions when I see the bullshit up ahead. Quickly I try to figure out what lane I'm supposed to be in. I have three choices. Shit. Might as well go with the middle one then I can scoot over either way at the last minute. And you need to determine what lane you want at least a 1/2 mile ahead of the actual circle (another point that these circles are bullshit.)

Being that I have never done this before, I'm riding on a prayer, people. I've got Billy Joe Bob behind me kissing my bumper. He's in a big hurry to get somewhere like the 7-11 up ahead. And I'm cockblocked on both sides by some more greggs. If I need to change lanes, it ain't gonna happen.

I'm getting closer to the circle and OnStar starts spitting out orders. Make a right in 3 feet, bear left in 6 feet, take a right at the second yield. Now Andrew's getting involved. "Mom, what's happening here? Do you know what to do? Why is the man's voice on the radio going crazy? Does he know where we should turn? Are we gonna make it to the Bouncin Party Zone? Is it 2 o clock cause that's when it opens."

Aww man, now I'm in the thick of it and people are entering and exiting all over the place. Horns are blaring, fingers are flipping and I am sweating cajones. Andrew's nervous and tells me to just drive faster. "DRIVE FASTER, MOM. They won't be able to catch you, Mom. Just do it."

Shit, my kid thinks we're in a dragrace. Oh, and don't forget about OnStar. They disconnected me as soon as I entered the circle. Some help they are. I must have gone around the circle a 1/2 dozen times. Changing lanes, honking, breathing heavy.

Finally I find a random freeway and just jump on it. Now we're headed to Imlay City. Much better. I need to find me some countryside.

I call OnStar back and they tell me that their system could not handle the frequent turns and just hung up. If I want directions to that place they won't do it. I am on my own. All they can tell me is "Get back on Van Dyke, Mr. Jan-a-cow-a-saki."

We finally join the circle once again and this time we run around just 3 times. Graciously, an older man lets me in. I think he knew I was in trouble cause I decided it was best to just throw the hazards on a mile out.

We made it to the Bouncin Party Zone at 2:07. Doors had just opened and the chaos was waiting for us.

We go in to pay and the lady has the balls to tell me, "Now, we need you to stay with your child here. This isn't a babysitting service. In fact, if you pay $7 you can jump, too. But I need to tell you two that we just had a hole in the 80 ft slide. I patched it shortly before you came in today but if you notice it's starting to deflate while you're on it, just jump off the side. The carpeting will break your fall."

So I have to come back at that one. "I'd be happy to take an 80 ft nose dive onto the carpet, as long as there's padding of course, considering the traffic circle I just rounded 18 times to get here."

Andrew has already ripped off his boots, jacket, hat, gloves, glasses and takes off.

I sit down on the picnic bench and listen to "No more I love yous" on the ghettoblaster in the corner.

Manager walks back in and tells me I can change the channel if I REALLY want to, but at least wait til that song is over. It reminds her of her ex and how they loved eachother in the beginning then when she found out about his girlfriend the lovin stopped cold turkey.

Shit. When is this midwinter break over? I'd like to pop the guy who came up with that a nice knuckle sandwich.

Workin Out Ain't That Bad

It really isn't. Especially if you do it once a week. And if you go during the day, say mid morning, you can even meet some real nice people that take working out not so seriously. I find those people are usually there for the social outlet. They'll walk the treadmill at a steady 2.5 mph. Getting skinny isn't their bag. For them it's more about commenting on the tv shows plastered all over the walls and chatting up their side businesses like Mary Kay. You know it's not often a 65 year old woman can get her picture hung in the corporate offices for selling the most blush nationwide. And they chat up their kids. Talk about how smart and successful they are and it's no wonder considering all of the effort and hard work they put into raising 'em. Parents now adays are lazy and selfish. Only worrying about themselves and the fancy cars they drive. I've learned this over the last few months. And I realize I fit in with this crowd much more than the evening crowd. I also noticed the average age for the mid morning group is 60. Age is only in your mind, people.

The evening crowd is hard core. When they hit the elliptical, their feet never touch the floorboards. They're literally flying through the air. And carrying on a full conversation with the gym staff in the process.

During the morning, the gym staff sits back. There's no reason to mingle with that crew. They don't take fitness seriously so what's the point wasting your time talking to them. The trainers smile a little bit but they also don't "work the crowd." These folks aren't their bread and butter. Their gas bills won't get paid by these dirts.

Last week was an interesting one. I sandwiched myself between a man slugging a coke while walking on the treadmill and a woman bragging about the most wonderful dinner she had the night before loaded with carbs and a heavy creamy sauce. I knew if I threw my 1980s headphones on, I would be safe.

Started out real strong. Pushing myself to the limit. Beet red in the face and barely breathing. I could tell I was really burning the calories. The coke on the treadmill next to me looked good, but I had to realize my cold Dasani was much better. Toad's "Girls, Girls, Girls" started rolling on the ipod and I knew I was gonna break a personal record today. This was my day. The day the Lawrd made. I needed to keep up the pace and rock it out. Next song, "Smokin in the Boys Room" pushed me even farther. The old folks were staring in amazement (and sheer horror) and I knew I was gonna show those trainers I COULD pay their gals bills and they need to keep an eye on me. Song after song and I was working it. Then I got the dreaded tap on the shoulder. Shit. Did I look like I was going to have a heart attack? Was my singing too loud? Nope. It was the day care center. My child had shit her pants. Dammit. Time to call it a day.

Of course the old folks around me were smiling away. Why that would be humorous to them is beyond me.

So I jump off and as I am wiping down the machine I get a little snicker from Blush of the Year Saleswoman: "You know, dear, it's probably a good thing that your child soiled her pants. You are very very red and look as though you could lapse into cardiac arrest. I do just what the doctor tells me - slow and easy. No sense in overdoing it. What good are you to your family if you're dead from an over extended work out."

Janko: "Yeah right. Why kill myself, literally, to be healthy for my family? Might as well be overweight and relish in it. Fat people can be happy people, too."

I haven't been back there since.

They don't GET IT in the South

So being in SC for a week really shed some light on what I thought and really have known all along. Detroit sucks balls. I actually read this long article that Mitch Albom wrote about Detroit as I was making my way in the air to honkeytonkland.

Mitch is chatting up the fact that, in Detroit, we all help eachother out, do the right thing, support the city, etc. I think this could not be further/farther from the truth. And I realize this is espcially true after being in the south for just 5 measly(sp?) days.

No one gives a rat's ass around here. I was at Meijer's today and a man rammed his cart into my heel. I turned around to see what kind of idiot would do such a thing and the guy mumbles, "Move." MOVE?! I am in a check out lane, jackass. When the chick in front of me checks out, I'll move myself. In the meantime, read about Oprah's lingering cocaine addiction in the Enquirer.

The last round of 9 inches of snow and I go over to a neighbor's house to help her shovel. She's all by herself w/o a snow blower. I can't even drag our snowblower over there so I take our bent in half snow shovel and try to make it work. You'd think she would thank me. Instead, she tells me how her husband and 3 college kids are inside laying on the couch watching TV. "They just ate lunch and they get real bad stomachaches if they launch into moderate exercise right after eating." Sheezuz.

In SC, I am at Wal Mart and a woman grabs me by the arm, and says, "Well, bless your heart, sweetie. You're here shopping without a warm winter coat on. You know you should pick one up while you're here. Weatherman says it's gonna hit 45 tomorrow."

And the employees actually help you. If you need something like WD40 they don't pull the famous Detroit line, "I have no idea what you're talking about. You're probably gonna have to go somewhere else for that."

I summed it up when I hit the check out and the cashier asked to see my license to verify I wasn't committing fraud with someone else's credit card (at home I have never been asked to show ID).

Cashier: "Oh, so you're from MI, huh? What's it like there?"

Janko: "It's actually quite depressing. The city is a burned out mess. Busted out houses, prostitues selling crack on nearly every corner and most people carry a gun. You have to. It's for your own good, you know."

Cashier: "Geez, my mama always told me it was nasty in the D. What do y'all do for fun?"

Janko: "Well, drag racing is really big. So is car jacking. And you can ice skate at a little rink downtown but they play shitty music and the skate rental is horrible. Laces are all torn and the skates themselves smell. REAL BAD."

Cashier: "Well, gurl you need to get yourself down here. We don't have those problems. In fact, we're getting a new Olive Garden soon and rumor has it they're gonna stay open til 11 on Saturday nights.

Janko: "I wish I could get myself down here but I wouldn't be able unload my house. Basically, I'm pinched."

Cashier: "Don't you give up now, sweetie. I will say an extra prayer for you tonight. Look at it this way, you do have something to be proud of: Aretha Franklin and Kid Rock."

Janko: "Right. That makes everything worth it."

As for Mitch, I think he's a great writer but his last commentary really missed the mark. Maybe he needs to spend some time OUT of Detroit and see what it's all about.

It's even been some time since Aretha was getting respect. Now you see her on the news and they all comment on her diet and how she was caught walking out of a BK with 3 whoppers in hand. Shit ain't right, people.

We need to do my Star Poster, Mom

So in Kindergarten it's apparently important to build a child's self esteem. Stroke the ego a few hundred times. That way when they get shot down in class by another student they won't feel like a jackass. They can walk away still feeling good about themselves. It's also important to give kindergarteners plenty of opportunities to talk about themselves. Brag really. They need to feel like "they're kind of a big deal around here."

Here's where the Star Student of the Week comes in. Each kid has a week where they're the diggity bomb. When the teacher does Circle Time, they get to plant their ass next to the teacher on a special chair when everyone else is sitting on a dirty carpet.

They get to pick up the milk in the cafeteria and drag it back up to the room (personally, I think this is bullshit and never would have wanted to do it, but for some reason, the kids feel like the top cock doing it).

But most important about Star Student of the Week is THE POSTER. We're supposed to fill out this poster that talks about the kid and his/her family. You need to list your favorite color, describe what you look like, list your favorite color, etc. The most interesting statements are:

-->My favorite place to go
-->If I had one wish it would be
-->When I grow up I WILL be

Andrew's week isn't until March so we've seen a lot of posters over the last few months. And all of them are just adorable. The kids always talk about their classy vacations, that they wish for all sick children to be cured and their occupation is typically a teacher, nurse or fireman.

Andrew's been busting my nut to get his poster done. So we started talking about it tonight. JUST talking. Not actually filling it in cause the answers change by the week. And based on the stuff he told me tonight, I am praying it will change yet again.

Favorite place to go:
My suggestions - SC to visit my sister and brother in law, Lost Lake Woods (in laws house up north), Disneyworld, Cedar Point
Andrew's answer - "Oh this is an easy one! Aunt Juju and Uncle David's house cause I can stay up late, take their dog on walks and tell him what to do, transform their living room into a giant fort, stay up late, eat at the Pancake House and do just about anything I want."

One wish:
Andrew's answer - "Get a horse. Preferably a thoroughbred and keep it in the backyard so I could ride it through the neighborhood whenever I want."

Occupation:
Now let's be real here, people. We all say we want our kids to do whatever makes them happy, right? Doesn't matter how much money they make or how prestigious the job is. But this response....
Andrew's answer - "I want to work at a Car Wash."
Janko - "Oh, you want to own one and collect all the money?"
Andrew - "No, of course not, that's too much responsibility. I don't want to be anyone's boss either. Boss's are usually really mean and make you work super hard and have you do things that don't always make sense. I want to just work there, Mom. I want to push the buttons - Regular, Super or Deluxe. And I also want to take shifts where I dry the car off with a towel."
Janko - "Geez, that's really hard work, Andrew. I mean it's so cold and you're standing in the freezing temperatures wiping off cars."
Andrew - "That's why they have the tip bukcet, Mom."
Janko - "But what about being a nurse. You told me you wanted to help sick people like your aunt. Or make parts for cars like your uncle. That logistics management degree is really interesting. Or be a physical therapist like your other uncle and help people build up their muscles."
Andrew - "Seriously, Mom. I want to work at a Car Wash. And the one right by our house. That way I can just live with you and Dad forever. Even after I get married and have 4 kids, we will all live with you guys. Two families in one house. We'll have a good time, Mom."

So someone tell me why I am sacrificing every month to stuff money in a 529 for this kid?

Birds of Prey - My Big Night Out

Every year it happens. It's a sad tradition that we can't avoid. On Oct 1st, Todd's boss tells the sales force, "kiss your wife and kids and tell them you'll see 'em in 90 days."

The 4th quarter is Todd's busiest time of the year. Those who never drink an ounce Jan - Sept lose control and blow it out the last few months of the year. This is a good thing. As Andrew says, "the more wine bottles they drink, Dad, the more money you make and the more cool stuff you could buy for me - if I have good behavior of course."

But it's rough on the homefront, people. I'm managing the weasels for 16 hours a day, 6-7 days a week. When the New Year finally blows in, I pack it in by 9. I'll admit that. I'm not ashamed. I dunk my crab legs in the warm drawn butter then hit the sack. We all do. It's lights out by 9:30 at the Janko crib.

So to prepare for this year's challenge, I did my best to research events in the area I could take the kids to that would really break up the day. More or less, help me make it through.

I noticed a free class at the library, "On Spirit Filled Wings: Birds of Prey Rehabilitated." It almost sounded like a religious experience so I signed Andrew and I up.

Toad watched baby weasel and Andrew and I cruised on up. I tried to explain to Andrew what the program would be about, but they didn't give me much to go on so I was pretty vague.

As we walked into the library, a librarian told us if we were here for the bird show we had to be very quiet because of the animals. ANIMALS? Wait. There are live aninals in this presentation?! Shit. I'm doomed. At least have the Wildlife Rehabber lady bring em out in the beginning of the show or it's gonna be a long ass night.

We took a seat up front (always do) and the Earthy looking woman started her powerpoint presentaton. The program did say it was for 5 year olds and up, but there's no way Andrew's gonna sit still when there are two huge cages with old nasty looking beach towels draped over them. He wants at those animals. He will not wait.

So she starts the presentation by telling us obvious shit:
-->keep your animals on a leash at all times
-->don't try to rescue an animal that's laying on the side of the road gasping for air b/c it will most likely attack you
-->don't mess with bird nests
-->don't try to make an animal a pet that clearly belongs in the wild

Yeah yeah. Get all that. But then she starts ripping through these slides of animals she has rehabbed over the years. The stories were awful, but the pictures were downright disgusting. Kind of reminded me of that film that show you in Driver's Ed where a car is mangled because the driver neglected to put on his turn signal before changing lanes. Here are some examples:

"This is a barn owl that got caught in a barbed wire fence up near Traverse City. That's why it's eyeball is hanging out of the eyesocket and it's left wing is missing."

"And someone in Sterling Heights was out hunting and thought this hawk was a turkey. The gunshot blew his anus off."

"Perhaps the saddest situation is this poor Snow White Owl. It was struck by a car and dragged 20 feet. It lived for a good 3 days. We tried to sew it's body back together but his leg was real busted and a busted leg is ALWAYS fatal. Kids, I want you to remember that. An animal can be missing an eye or feathers but if his leg is screwed up, he might as well be dead."

Surprisingly, the kids didn't say a word. Andrew looked at me a few times and made weird faces but we hung in there.

And she really teased the kids. She'd talk a big game about the animals she had in the cages and kept saying, "As soon as my Asst Dave gets here, we'll bring them out so you can meet them."

After an hour of this nonsense, Dave walks in. She smiles a lot at him and decides to crack open a cage. She brings the animals out (w/o Dave's help BTW) and chats up the cages she has in her backyard and all of the crazy shit she does for them. Sings for them. Plays the guitar, reads books, etc.

The hawk and owl entertain us for a while and then it's question and answer time.

Gotta love these:

"Why do you do this? I mean what is your REAL job? What kind of adult has time to play a guitar for a hawk that's just about dead?"

"Where did you buy the wood for your cages?"

"If you unhooked that hawk from your glove right now would it kill someone in this room?"

"You said if a bird breaks it's leg it's pretty much dead. So how do you go about making it dead?"

She passed out post cards for the kids to send out and upon further inspection I noticed it's a sleazy direct mail piece begging for donations. No wonder she tried to give me a handful.

We were walking out and Andrew told me he's changed his mind about what he wants to be when he grows up. He wants to take care of sick birds and he's okay with the fact that she doesn't get paid - he'll just live with us forever and never go to college. His bills will be minimal. Just the wood for the cages.

As we're pulling out of the parking lot, The Rehabber lady and "Dave" are standing in front of her SUV with the hatch popped and the cages inside with the beach towels on them. She and Dave are embracing eachother and he's running his fingers through her 12 foot long hair.

Of course, Andrew has to comment. "Geez, Mom. Looks like Dave helps her with those birds and other stuff, too."

Wrapping Gifts and Getting Lip

It's Sunday morning. About 9:06 to be exact. I've been in the basement with the kids for a good hour. Playing, wrapping gifts, etc. Toad's sawwing logs upstairs and thinking he's gonna skate out of taking Andrew to chatechism while he's soaking up a nice Catholic mass.

I'll admit the basement is a natural disaster. There's shit everywhere. Cushions are off the couch and chair because there is an alien that just landed and we think it's under the cushions. We have to take the cushions off to check and see if they are still around and when they're leaving. Katherine is walking around aimlessly and pulling crap out of its place as she strolls along. I don't care if the place looks like hell. I deal with this everyday and roll with it. There are much bigger carp to fry, people. But Toad, on the other hand, he ain't having it. He tells me when he walks into a room with toys everywhere and things in disarray he immediately gets stressed out. He feel overwhlemed. Kinda like the world is gonna end and he never stopped to pick up the 24 pack of bottled water to get him through the last few agonizing days. I have challenged him on this. In fact, Andrew has even said, "Dad, you gotta cool it, man. I think you would feel better if you drank a big glass of red wine. Connor - this kid in my class - he told me his Dad AND Mom drink red wine together and all of their problems just go away."

At any rate, Toad starts making his way down the stairs to the basement. I can hear him cause he's making this moaning sound like, "I may have gotten 12 hours of sleep, but I'm a hustler so I'm still tired. How am I gonna make it through the day?" He does this because he's hoping I will volunteer to take Andrew to church while he puts Katherine down for a nap and sacks on the couch watching ESPN. I know my man, people. I may not know much, but I KNOW MY MAN. He is as predictable as they come.


He gets to the bottom of the stairs and Andrew and I shoot eachother a look - the look that says, "We're screwed but there's nothing we can do about it now. He's gonna start in on us."

We all hang for a few minutes and then I make the announcement that Andrew has to start getting ready for Chatechism.

Andrew tries so damn hard to make a b line for the stairs. Toad stops him and says, "Before you run upstairs, Mr., you need to clean up your mess."

Awwwww sheeeeet. Here it comes. The debate of all time. Keep your head down, Janko. Keep wrapping those gifts. Don't look up.

Toad: "Andrew this basement is always a disaster. Everytime I come down here it's a mess. You have all these cool toys and you're not respecting them."

Andrew: "Well it actually all started with Matthew (chinese kid next door). See in China, you don't have to pick up your toys after you play with them because there's really no point. You're just gonna come back in a couple of hours and start playing with them again. Chinese people are REALLY smart, Dad."

Toad: "This has nothing to do with Chinese people. Clean up the toys."

Now Katherine knows shit's not right. She starts grunting and giving Toad mean looks.

Andrew: "What the hell?! I am exhausted, Dad. You and Mom always tell me what to do and boss me around and I am getting really tired from it. I mean, it's hard when you're constantly being told what to do. I need freedom. I need choices."

Toad: "You choice is clean this basement or go to your room until lunchtime."

Insert loud grunt from Katherine.

Andrew: "What needs to happen here is we need to call Matthew and have him help me with this mess cause he was the last one over here and he got all this stuff out."

Toad is now way past Mr. Reasonable. Something's gonna blow.

Toad (in a surprisingly soft tone): "Andrew, let me explain something to you. Everyday I come home and I clean this house. I wash the dishes, I do the laundry. I pick up all of Katherine's toys. I shovel the driveway. I take out the trash. These are things that I do for our family. Maybe I don't make the mess but I clean it up cause that's what you do when you're in a family. Everyone picthes and in helps eachother out."

Andrew: "Dad, I think you have it a little bit wrong. Almost all of those things you said MOM does everyday for us. Plus, she makes beds, packs my lunch and cooks dinner. And you wanna know the worst part of all her jobs - changing stinky diapers. Sometimes she changes 4 in one day! And they can be bombs, Dad. REAL bombs. And she doesn't even get an allowance. Can you imagine?"

Toad: "Yap, Mom is a hard worker. Now clean the basement and get ready for church."

Ahhh, he's a real mama's boy that Andrew. Makes me proud.

Doorbusters are Doorbombers

These "Doorbusters" are not what they seem. I know cause I got burned. Or burnt.

Headed to Kohl's on Saturday with my sister and Katherine. We didn't get there til 2so we figured the crowds wouldn't be bad. But their doorbusters ended at 3 on Black Friday so we were really in the last minute doorbuster madness. We grabbed a handful of toys since they were all 50% off. Great considering "Toys R a Rip Off Here" had the same shit for full price.

We stood in the 28 person line to pay and gave Katherine a continuous drip of Cheerios. The guy behind us in line was randomly grabbing items off the shelf and stacking them in his cart. Odd stufff like a toaster oven and cordless phone. When I asked him about the toaster oven (cause I secretly want one) he told me that he didn't know the price but it had to be good so he was getting it. Surely, some dirt in his family could use one. He also picked up some Christmas socks for himself and a navigation system which was 89% off.

We paid and took off. Walking to the car I realized a couple of the items I was overcharged on. My sis took the car and drove the weasel around in the mall parking lot so she would fall asleep while I ran back in to Customer Service.

There were 2 general managers behind the counter just walking around aimlessly. They both had pens behind their ears and wore Santa ties. When we realized that I was overcharged on EVERYTHING, the managers started making these hand signals to eachother. The kind you see in baseball games when the belly itcher pitcher and catcher are trying to determine what type of ball to throw. It was REAL annoying, Were they signaling about me? Finally, I said something. Something to the effect of being overcharged on everything. And the fact that the 16 people behind me were all in line probably doing the same thing I was. Here's the remark I got:

"Dude this happens every year on Black Friday. Somebody at Corporate hacks into the computer system and changes the end time for the door busters. They changed all the codes and there's nothin we can do about it."

Janko: "Okay, so you have a hacker on your hands. Why don't you call CORPORATE and explain what's going on?

Santa Tie Manager: "They won't answer. They're too busy to pick up the phone. They'll just let it ring and ring. We'll just deal with it. We always do. We come to expect it."

Janko: "Right, but customers walk away with a bad taste in their mouth. I mean I am frustrated. And this is a waste of your Cashier's time."

Other Santa Tie Manager: "Lady, how much did you save? $3?"

Janko: "Oh no. That's not the point! I saved $16. That's a few tanks of gas now. It's a few happy meals."

Manager: (Back to making those jacked up hand signals with one another) "Have a nice holiday, Lady. Come back tonight and the pricing will be sorted out. Most items will be off sale, but there won't be as much chaos."

Janko: "Right. Sounds like a REAL good plan."

Ran out to the parking lot with all the crap and my sister is nowhere to be found. About 10 minutes later she surfaces. She got caught in the middle of a sting at Macy's in the parking lot. A man in a fur coat was apprehended as he walked the parking lot. Apparently he stole a set of legwarmers. She got pinched and had to wait behind the Escalade Sherriff's car while the dog sniffed him and cufffed him.

Black Friday is a BUST.

Stupid Parents Exist....Hell, They're My Neighbors

"Lady, you are a complete fool."

"I told my kids not to listen to anyone and do whatever they want."

As Colin Powell said, "Discipline is not easy and not liked."

"We all need to have common sense, people. Especially with our kids."

"I never chased your kid with a hockey stick. In fact, your wife assulated me three times on my chest. I should have taken the hockey stick and chopped her head off."

These are just some of the loving, sensitive comments I heard last night at our annual subdivision meeting. I have to admit I went because I knew the shit was gonna hit the fan and considering the lack of drama I have in my life, I needed to see it unfold. Or so I thought.

This is gonna be a long one so stick with me. Pay close attention. I'll try to detail the important stuff and "set the scene."

Our president has been accused of chasing young boys in the neighborhood with a hockey stick because they continue to "disrupt the wetlands" behind his house. They have been told on several occasions not to build forts out of sticks and concrete, float through the water in the top of a car top carrier and build a bridge to get to the "island."

He claims he's been civil and asked them to stop. But he snapped and couldn't take the backtalk he kept receiving so he saw a hockey stick laying in his yard and grabbed it and strated running toward them screaming. Before this all took place the kids had time to write "F You" in 20 ft letters in the snow in his yard.

When he mentioned he grabbed a hockey stick, I gasped. Thought the gasp for air would spice up the "discussion."

The kids ran like bullets back to their house. Ran inside and locked themselves in a closet. They apparently feared for their lives. But no one bothered to clue the au pair in. When the Pres finally got to the punks house, the au pair answered the door. The President thought she was the Mama and started yelling obscenities. (Good thing the au pair speaks German and no English.) She slammed the door on his face and called the REAL mama at work.

Real Mama was REAL pissed because she had to be dragged out of a very imBORtant meeting to deal with the matter. She called the Pres and they both screamed vulgarities for a few minutes and hung up on eachother.

Now the hood is all riled up. Parents are flipping their lid and no one feels comfortable taking their dog for a walk anywhere near the wetland and/or the President's house.

But it ain't right they say. We can should be able to use the wetlands. We pay our annual dues and we have the right dammit. If my kid wants to build a fort and he's not a civil engineer, leave him be. STEP OFF.

But the attorneys in the hood tell them if a kid is deprived of oxygen for more than 3 minutes (from drowning) we will all get sued and each resident will have to be upwards of $3k to pay for the kid's injuries.

So do we buy more insurance? Hell no. Cause more insurance won't do a damn bit of good. There are always loopholes. If they hire Feiger we're all going down.

Toad and I were absolutely disgusted. All I kept thinking was, "We need to put the crib up for sale. We live by morons." But we can't. We'll lose everything. So now I have to have yet ANOTHER conversation with Andrew explaining that dumbass people are everywhere - even down the street.

We ended up walking out and mumbling under our breath, "this is so sad. so disheartening. so PATHETIC."

But perhaps the best part about the whole situation is that the car top carrier is still there. The kids just left it. And we could use one. I want to go back there and nab it but I betcha the Pres went out last night and bought a rifle.

Shoot the Duck

As a kid, there was a place in town called SkateWorld. We only went there about once a year (when our school was having some sort of fundraiser) but the two hours there was like heaven on earth. Just mapping out what to wear was an ordeal. You wanted to be stylish yet comfortable. Rollerskating to Rick Springfield and "shooting the duck" were important to consider when picking out the baddest ass outfit in your closet. I won't go into what I wore and I won't talk about how I styled my hairs. Those that know me well understand how limited I am with hairstyles.

The local skating rink in our city offers beginner rollerskating lessons. Or so it says on their website.

I called up there to ask a few questions. Here's how it went:

14 year old teenage boy completely out of breath: "The Skate Zone, what can I do for ya?"

I got the impression he was on the rink, heard the phone ring, grabbed the cordless and then continued skating.

In the backgroud I could hear LL Cool J's "I'm the type of guy...."

Janko: "Hi, how's it goin? - I pause for a response from him but all I get is deep breathing. - I am interested in signing my son up for lessons. He doesn't have any real experience other than putting on my rollerblades from college and wobbling around in the basement on the carpet in them. You see, he thinks he's good, but he struggles. Anyway, I want to make sure he gets into the right class and all."

14 Year Old Male: "Right, we don't really recommend rollerskating on carpet, ma'am."

Janko: "Completely agree with you. I realize he shouldn't be skating on carpet in size 8 womens blades but my daughter's real sick and we can't go outside so we've been improvising at home with entertainment options."

14 Year old: "Have you considered taking him in your garage to skate? The cement would work well and you could even bring a little radio out there for him."

Janko: "Yeah, um our garage is really cold and pretty messy. Plus, he doesn't have skates of his own. I really don't want him wearing mine. Catch my drift?"

I cannot believe we are having this conversation. I keep thinking about the chicken I need to pull out for dinner, the beds I need to make and the heaping pile of laundry that needs to get done. I just want him to charge my friggin charge card and be done with it.

14 Year Old: "Well ma'am it's been nice talking to you. We're open til 11:30 tonight so why don't you swing in this evening and we can register your child?"

Janko: "Easier said than done. Like I said earlier, my daughter is sick and we can't really leave the house. It says on your website you can register by phone. That's what I want to do. I just need confirmation on the correct class."

14 Year Old: Does your kid know the proper way to fall down??

What the hell is this punk talking about?

Janko: "No. He knows NOTHING. In fact, does this class cost include skate rental?"

14 Year Old: "It does. I think you need to come in and experience the Skate Zone. Our lighting is the best in the state and we have a dj that spins at raves. He knows what kind of music kids are interested in. Frank the Tank, the night manager, has been messing with that website. You really can't register by phone. I am actually wheelin right now and nowhere near a credit card machine."

Janko: "Can you at least tell me if the beginner class starting on 12/6 has openings?

14 year old: "Dude. You need to just come in. I think it's about full."

Janko: "I can't make it in today. What time will you be there tomorrow?

14 year Old: We open around 2 or 4 and will stay open til 11:30. You're better off to come in late tomorrow night. That way you can talk to Frank, too. He likes to meet all of the moms."

Janko: "Sick. See you tomorrow."