Tag Archives: stupid

Dear Diary, It’s The Most Epic Vacation Ever!!

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And then we had to run away from the sand seal who popped up out of nowhere and  tried to steal our Doritos...Connecticut...who knew?

And then we had to run away from the sand seal who popped up out of nowhere and tried to steal our Doritos…Connecticut…who knew?

As we all know by now, my vacations suck. They always have all my life. From the first time I went to Disney when I was 5 and came down with the flu and strep throat and almost died, right up till this past May when I took the kids to NYC and spent 2 days lost in the subway. This vacation is no different. I guess since I expect nothing, I am never disappointed. That is my consolation. 

Someone gave my 15 year old two free tickets to a Broadway show. That means I have to figure out how to get us to NYC and back…on zero dollars. This is sort of my specialty…well, that and having sucky vacations. I wonder if those two things are connected….???….nah….Anyway, how do you get from Upstate NY to NYC you might ask. Well, through Connecticut of course! I’m a sucker for a road trip. And New Haven CT is on the ocean. Drop the dog to the boarders and off we go!

I had booked us a hotel, a wicked cheap hotel, in New Haven CT. The plan was to drive to CT, tour Yale University, hit the beach, go back to the hotel, sleep, get up, take the train into NYC, window shop, then, my 15 year old, and her buddy who is already in NYC, go see the show while my 11 year old and I do other free NYC stuff, get the 15 year old after the show, take the train back to CT, to the motel, sleep,get up, drive home. Ta DA! 

We were right on schedule. Drove into a really sketchy area, but that’s par for the course with me. No matter where I go I always seem to be able to find the scariest part of town. It’s like my super power…Generally, we just go THROUGH the bad part of town but not today! Today, we follow the GPS and it leads us right to an Econo Lodge straight out of an episode of CSI. But we won’t judge a book by it’s cover…or a motel by it’s crime scene tape…we go into the lobby, such as it was, and check in. Get our key, push down our misgivings and fears and head to our room. The chipped paint is something I could overlook. My house needs a paint job desperately so…I get it. The weeds growing up through the cracks in the parking lot…my driveway is really weedy, the cigarette butts littering the walkway…well, smokers can be careless…the old lady who fell on the stairway and decided to not get up…we all have those sort of days don’t we? 

We got to our room, opened the door and were greeted by the most horrific smell. Now that is saying something as I lived with Spencer who was trying to kill me with his farts. But this smell, this was something special. It was cheap incense with an underpinning of urine and a subtle hint of old blood…Truly it was unique. And spine tingling terrifying. We came in, shut the door and my 11 year old said “Hey! At least there’s a microwave!” which was not plugged in and just sitting on the floor next to the door making a sort of weak whining sound. I had to pee so I used the restroom. It was a pee-while-squatting sort of sitch…ladies know what I mean. I came out, told the kids to put on their suits. We had to get out of this nasty nasty room. So, we headed to the ocean.

It was overcast and chilly. But the kids jumped right in and swam. There was a little water park and a light house that we couldn’t touch and a carousel that we weren’t allowed near and the best part was when the truck came to clean out the porta potties that were UPwind from where I was sitting. Connecticut is filled with incredible scents…

Maybe it was the breeze from the ocean, maybe it was the breeze from the porta potty but I had a brilliant idea whilst sitting on the beach…we would go to Walmart and buy pillows and some quilts and put them on the beds and sleep on them thereby protecting us from the communicable diseases and bed bugs! So, I google Walmart and of course there are 3 within 5 miles of each other and me! Makes sense right? We drive to the one that is closest to our hotel. But ya know, I get a better idea on the way! Let’s just find another hotel! And I look to my left and there is a Days Inn! I go in to check to see if they have a room for us and we get the last one! But, before we went in, we sat in the car and debated getting a new hotel because like I said, I am doing this on my good looks and I’m not sure my looks are good enough for a Days Inn. We get out of the car, my 15 year old in her red bikini bottoms with her white see thru cover up, my 11 year old in her swim suit and jean shorts which immediately fall to her ankles when she stands up and me with my wild hair and no make up…we are lookin GOOD!  We would like to see the room first please…being all discriminating consumer like…He opens the door and it doesn’t smell like death, there is nothing in the microwave and the toilet seat isn’t crusty…it’s like Heaven on earth. 

So, we drive back to the other hotel, check out, step over the chalk outline of a body, get back in the car and GO GO GO!!!!

The kids learned many lessons today. The least of which is to always check the Yelp reviews before booking a 50 dollar a night hotel. I could tell you how hard we laughed at ourselves and our situation today. It takes a special kind of silly to be able to laugh at this sort of stuff I know. So, although I would not recommend this route, especially if you are on a budget, I will say that we can find the fun in just about anything up to and including a motel with an active on site murder investigation! 

Check back tomorrow for our adventures in NYC…

This bird was such an asshole. He was totally stalking me because he knew I had a sandwich in my purse.

This bird was such an asshole. He was totally stalking me because he knew I had a sandwich in my purse.

 

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Dear Diary, It’s A Three Shower Kind Of Day

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See that steaming hot pot of water? Dump that on my foot. Good thinkin! But first, lemme go step on a rusty nail...I'm a fun gal.

See that steaming hot pot of water? Dump that on my foot. Good thinkin! But first, lemme go step on a rusty nail…I’m a fun gal.

Today on the continuing saga that is my life, I decided I would step on a rusty nail. Just because I have never done that before! A few weeks ago TWO black cats ran across the street in front of my car. And at the time I chose to believe that it was a sign of good luck. Because the Chinese believe black cats are good luck. I’m not Chinese. Just to be safe, I counted bouncing two checks and forgetting about the kid’s dentist appointment as my “black cat bad luck” . I was wrong. As I usually am. Ask my mother, she’ll tell you. Anyway, I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for the other shoe to drop. Although, in retrospect, I should have waited because then I would have had better shoes on when I decided to step on a rusty nail. C’est La Vie.

Here’s how today unfolded…I woke up, usual stuff, took the dog to the dog park. Watched him sniff butts and pee on stuff until it started to rain. Drove the 40 minutes home with a wet dog in the back seat. Put him in his crate and went to Hobby Lobby. I know, I know, we are not supposed to shop at Hobby Lobby. It is a bad place because they want to keep their female employees barefoot and pregnant. BUT they have such FUN STUFF!!!! I mean, honest to Jesus, their isle  of old fashion tin signs has GOT to be modeled after Heaven. So, I am a trader to my sex, my beliefs, my political party and the entire Woman’s Movement from 1912 till today. But God is probably cool with me and I am going to vote for Hillary regardless. Then, to compound my political incorrectness, I went to Walmart. Confessing this probably just got me kicked out of the club. But Walmart has cheap play sand (most likely it is ground up bones of the old people who died from lack of health care while working as greeters).

Came home with my cool ass vintage looking sign and 4 bags of ground up old people bones and got busy! I gingerly tip toed, in my flip flops, to the junky side of the old garage to fix the window that was crooked. I was armed with my hammer and two nails I found on the gardening bench in the shed. Because the good nails are in the basement and that would mean walking literally 1/2 of an acre and then I would be in the house so I would have no excuse to not change into my sneakers.You see my logic right? I fixed the window and literally said out loud “I hope I don’t step on a rusty nail!”, turned around, took one step, right onto a rusty nail. Nailed my foot to a board that had a rusty nail sticking straight up. And that is what I get for shopping at Hobby Lobby. I’m sure there is some Jesus/nail/ foot connection but in that moment, there was just pain. And shock. So, I used my other foot to hold the wood down while I lifted up the nailed in foot.

I hobbled out saying out loud ” I can’t believe that just happened” and I called the doctor. Because my mom is mad at me and the doctor isn’t (or at least I don’t think the doctor is? ) The doctor said I needed to come right in for a tetanus shot. She wasn’t just kidding! I swear my jaw started to lock up as I was speaking to her! It’s like lava, tornadoes and lock jaw were the biggest fears of my childhood. I drove straight over and they gave me a shot.

Came home, limped into the house, started dinner using the brand new grill! It has a side burner where I can make the salt potatoes! After dinner, the kids cleaned up and I decided that I could just toss the salt potato water on the lawn. Or…I could dump the still very HOT salt potato water right on my foot with the puncture wound. Option two sounds about right. Scalded my foot. That’s fun. Now I have lock jaw, a puncture wound and a third degree burn all on the same foot. I wonder if I become Chinese my luck would change? This is putting a real dent in my latest pedicure obsession. Life is so difficult sometimes…I blame Obama…and Hobby Lobby and the Chinese.

Look at it. LOOK. AT. IT!!!!!

Look at it. LOOK. AT. IT!!!!!

 

 

 

Dear Diary, Everyone is an Idiot

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None of the people buried in this cemetery had Obama Care...and now...they're all dead.

None of the people buried in this cemetery had Obama Care…and now…they’re all dead.

So, Happy St. Patrick’s Day . I’m only wearing green because it looks good on me and if anyone pinched me I would drop kick them right in their hoo ha. Not in the mood. Got up, it was -3 degrees. It’s fricking MARCH!! I wish these global warming experts would step up their campaign and make it WARMER NOW. This is bullshit. I have things to do and I have been very patient with this winter crap. I’m done.

Took my 11 year old to the doctor. She has an ear infection. She hasn’t been sick (needing an antibiotic) in almost 2 years. I totally want some sort of Mom Points for that. We sat in the exam room for an hour before we were seen. An HOUR!! Luckily, she just started reading the second book in the Divergent series (against my better judgement…it was a gift from someone so, yeah). I, on the other hand, had an hour to sit there and ruminate on having to sit there while listening to her sniff snot which is the most annoying sound in the whole wide world.

Came home and called my dermatologist. They no longer take my insurance. Ok. No big deal. I guess these things are a BIG DEAL to some people? Not me…losing a Dr is so low on the scale of things I have lost it doesn’t even register. What’s the point of getting pissy? I go onto the website and find a new Dr who takes my insurance. Whoopdee Do. I call the new Dr and get the receptionist who apparently has a bug up her ass. Personally, if I worked for a doctor, I would ask the doctor to get the bug out of my ass before I had to deal with the public. But that’s just me I guess.  I asked if they accepted my insurance. She said, in a very haughty voice, she had never even heard of my insurance. Ever. I said “Wow! Really! So, are you new at this job then?” And she indignantly replied no, she was not. Ok…back to my original question, does the doctor accept my insurance? Her reply? “No. We do NOT accept that insurance. It is from The Exchange, it’s that Obama Care thing which means it is probably medicare and we don’t deal with medicare patients ever. And really, no one is ever going to make us.” Good Morning Vietnam! I said “Just for future reference ma’am, what I am paying for is not medicaid. I am sorry you have issues with being a human being and I hope you are never treated the way you treat others. Thanks for your time” and I hung up.

This is the second time I have been faced with someone who disapproves of my choices based solely on their own experiences and/or what they have been conditioned to believe. And quite frankly it makes me sick. I guess I have been very VERY fortunate in my life to love and be loved, know, work with and BE someone who is very wealthy. At the same time I have loved, been loved, worked with and BEEN someone who is exceptionally poor. I know people across the income spectrum. Money doesn’t matter to me…YOUR money. I wish I had more but whatever. YOUR income and what YOU chose to do with it is none of my beeswax. Your choice in insurance is also none of my beeswax. I do not understand people who are so incredibly ignorant. I just don’t get it. It’s perfectly fine to have an opinion and if a person were curious and asked me about my choices I would fully explain. But to treat me like I am a moron because I pay out of pocket for health insurance is about as unintelligent as it gets. Also, we could compare a doctor’s salary to mine, or to the receptionist for that matter and then talk about how the doctor went to school to be in a profession that is sworn to HELP people, not a profession that is sworn to make the doctor rich.

I moved on down the list and found a doctor who is much closer to my house and accepts my insurance and apparently accepts me as a human being in this world also. How lovely. Now to find a new lady-parts doctor.

*rant* I am really truly sick of these people who think that just because they have a freaking job that they are better than everyone else. It is such a LOW CLASS attitude to take. Seriously. How about judging people on how they treat you? How about being kind and polite to others regardless of what their w-2 says? Or better yet, how about just taking yourself out of functioning society so the rest of us don’t have to deal with your incredible stupidity. I feel sorry for people like the receptionist today. Her parents obviously did a really awful job raising her and instilling decent values. But, luckily her employer doesn’t accept my insurance so I don’t have to deal with her. *end rant*

I’m done being cranky…for the time being. I might be cranky later, I’m not sure. I haven’t decided yet.

This is the face I was making at the receptionist over the phone. Also, I was standing in a cauldron.

This is the face I was making at the receptionist over the phone. 

 

 

Dear Diary, Will It Ever End?

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This was yesterday. it was  50 degrees. Today it is a Snownado named Vulcan. Way to be an asshole March.

This was yesterday. it was 50 degrees. Today it is a  Snownado named Vulcan. Way to be an asshole March.

The weathermen have been hyping a massive winter storm for the past week. Today is the day. It’s here. Massive. Winter. Storm. Or is it? I guess the only difference between the winters of my youth and the winters of my children’s youth is technology. Weathermen in my day had integrity and honesty and no live doppler. Today, these weathermen have degrees in nonsense and information that really turns them on. Then they get on the TV with their weather boners and get us all hot and bothered about impending snow storms that they name. Yeah, you heard right. They have started naming winter storms. This one is Vulcan. Real sexy name. Vulcan.Whatever. It’s snowing. The roads are bad.

So, the kids had school but got out early. That’s cool. Absolutely everything is closed. Including grocery stores, malls, churches gas stations and highways. I want to bitch about the weather but why bother. I want to move to New Orleans. I want my dog to be trained. I also want some dental floss but that’s neither here nor there.

I didn’t have work so I made dinner. I washed the dog. I played some games with the kids. We are out of butter and toilet paper. How this happened I have no idea.

I think I am going to start taking offense at people calling other people crazy.

I wonder when I stopped being afraid of the dark.

Just what the hell kind of pair is that????

Just what the hell kind of pair is that????

Dear Diary, Day of Destiny

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This is at my kid's high school. We are all about being vintage.

This is at my kid’s high school. We are all about being vintage.

Sounds exciting huh? It’s not. Destiny USA is the name of one of our local malls. It is simply an expansion of our old mall which was built on toxic waste dump. I really do not enjoy going to Destiny. It’s big and overpriced and the people it attracts are dumb (present company excluded). I don’t enjoy the atmosphere at all. And I am in continual state of being totally and completely broke so, there’s that.

This week the kids had mid winter recess. My youngest had basketball camp every day in the morning. Wednesday we celebrated her birthday with her friends. We went to The Mall. Worse yet, we went to an overpriced arcade in the mall with really lousy food. But the kids loved it. I almost kicked a mother in the fanny pack and I definitely made ugly faces at the kid who jumped in line ahead of my kid for Mario Kart.  Turn down the lights, turn up the music, add some electronic competition and you get a bunch of giant assholes. Back when I was a kid we could only play Pac Man at the bowling alley or the pizza shop and we had to walk up hill both ways in the snow. With plastic bread bags inside our boots.

Thursday, my 15 year old had The Boyfriend over. They made cookies and she forced him to watch The Notebook. It may not have been The Notebook but every movie the 15 year old watches seems like The Notebook to me. We saw The Monuments Men.Too much George Clooney and smoking but very good movie over all.

We did some other stuff. And some other stuff. It snowed and it rained. I have had nightmares every night for a week. I think I am trying to subconsciously kill myself with cheese.

Oh yeah, and I went to Sochi. The only picture I took was of the tandem toilets. Because Russia.

Oh yeah, and I went to Sochi. The only picture I took was of the tandem toilets. Because Russia.

 

Dear Diary, Day of Ignorance

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Just don't.

Just don’t.

I am so incredibly angry right now I don’t know if I will be able to get through writing this.

Today, I woke up, showered, and went to a gynecological appointment. I really don’t remember what it was for but it was scheduled, so I went. I had a few things I wanted to ask about so I didn’t mind going. I don’t like my doctor. I have never liked him. But he had enough confidence that I figured he knew what he was talking about as far as lady parts go. Oh and also, he told me he knew everything there is to know about women’s anatomy. He told me that alot. He told me repeatedly he is an Expert on PMS, on bladder issues, on every type of infection,weird smell, discharge and color that can possibly happen to a boob or a hoo ha. Great. I never believed him, but, I usually allow egotistical, narcissistic men to just prattle on and on…they love to hear themselves talk.

I walked in, told the receptionist that I have new insurance, did the new insurance dance and then had a seat in the nasty, skeevy waiting room. Looking at all of the other ladies, knowing we are all sort of dreading being there. Looking at the few men who are there also in support of their wives or girlfriends…in one case possibly his mom…Old, young, pregnant, not. We are all waiting.

They call me into the closet. It is where they do blood pressure and weight. That’s all terrific. Pee in a cup…for what? I don’t know. But I was given a detailed demonstration on how to do a clean catch. I am 41 years old with three children. I am not sure what about my appearance says “Too Dumb to Know How To Pee In A Cup” but there ya go. And then I get to go into the room with the table with the heel holders. I have  to strip from the waist down and hang out with a paper over my private parts. Now, we women are just used to this sort of treatment. We are used to feeling totally and completely vulnerable. Physically and emotionally. It’s sort of a “woman thing”. No big deal.

So there I sit, half naked. The only thing I have to hold onto is a paper sheet because my dignity was left in the bathroom with the cup of pee. As I am texting my bff about what we are going to do this weekend, the nurse comes in all apologies. I guess they don’t take my new health insurance. Um…ok!!! But WAIT! She wants me to put my pants back on and wait right here. Why? Well, just in case the doctor wants to see me anyway. It will cost about 200 dollars but if he wants to see me…TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS?????????????? FOR WHAT?????????????? Since WHEN did I start having to PAY others to look at me naked???????? I hadn’t given up on my fall back plan of being a stripper and here I am being told that if I want this man to look at my intimate places I am going to have to PAY HIM????????????????????????????????

And there I sit. Waiting. The nurse is falling all over herself apologizing to be for the mix up. How she thought they accepted my insurance but it’s from The Exchange so they don’t and oh boy is she sorry. She wants to get the receptionist in here and the accountant and the billing department. I was totally fine with it. Not an issue. I hated this doctor’s office, I was never impressed with the cleanliness or the friendliness or the understanding of the people who work there so, I’m thinking this is a marvelous opportunity! By this point, the nurse is almost crying and offering me free magazines on herpes and breastfeeding. She’s a mess.

The doctor wants to see me in his office pro bono. Oh for fucks sake. Fine. I go in an sit down across from him. His other nurse/secretary sits in the corner taking notes on her computer. Or maybe she is a frustrated court stenographer? Who cares. As soon as my now covered ass hits the chair doesn’t this ignorant, arrogant, absolutely clueless doctor (the one who I ASSUME took that oath about “First, do no harm”) start in with “So, why exactly did you go to The Exchange for health insurance?” But before I could answer he pukes out HIS take on it, on why HIS practice will NEVER participate with it, how it is going to collapse our government and kill people and how we are all just very very stupid and we don’t understand how the medical system works. If only we simple people were just smarter, more willing to pay for what we need then there would be no Exchange and the president wouldn’t be killing our people…

Took me a few. I had to pull myself out of the fog that always encases my brain when I am confronted with something that is so incredibly wrong. Now,I am not saying that his opinion isn’t valid. I am not even saying that he is wrong. But I sure as SHIT am saying that there is NO conceivable scenario in which a doctor should EVER bring a patient into his office and berate and belittle her for her choices based on HIS experience and HIS opinion.

I sat there and smiled my gee-you-are-an-incredibly-stupid-person-smile and let him ramble. He was sure to include his superior abilities in his chosen profession, he rambled a bit about how his practice would rather give away free health care than participate with The Exchange which pays LESS than Medicaid. How can he possibly justify getting paid less than what he deserves? Oh…yeah…I guess at that point I was suppose to nod agreeingly.

Instead, I cleared my throat and said ” I see your point” which was when he smiled that self satisfactory smile. He then asked if I would consider paying out of pocket for his superior services as that is really what would be best for my health. I cleared my throat again because the bile was really getting in the way of my answering his question. I said “I would rather be seen in a backwoods shed by a witch doctor with a hanger and raccoon hat and dirty fingernails than to EVER be seen by you again.” I suppose that was a little harsh and exactly what he would expect a poor, stupid woman like me would say. I didn’t really say that. I said “It’s a shame that money and politics have become your way of life. Because I am guessing when you became a doctor you had morals and standards. Unfortunately, you have obviously have been corrupted by a mindset and have forgotten completely that your first directive is to treat women in a respectful manner. It was never nice doing business with you. I will find a new doctor.”

And I left. He mumbled something about the hospital not taking Exchange insurance and how did I expect to find a new doctor and I was making another bad decision…blah blah blah.

I have friends who hold a similar view to Dr. Demented. It’s ok. I love them. They love me. Ain’t no thang. But for a DOCTOR to bring me into his office to discuss HIS political views, HIS life views and HIS opinions? Nope. That is wrong on every level. It’s rude, disrespectful and very very dumb. I can’t abide stupid. I really hope that other women do not have to go through what I went through today. And if they do, I wish they also tell him where to stick his speculum.

Apparently the dog knows how to do a clean catch.

Apparently the dog knows how to do a clean catch.

Suck It

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In my nightmare, this is what would chase me around my house, throwing up on all of the braided rugs…

When I was a little girl, I had a reoccurring nightmare involving a fleet of Rainbow vacuum cleaners. That is what we had, a Rainbow vacuum cleaner. Which, incidentally, is the most disgusting invention known to the 20th century. The Rainbow uses water…why ? I don’t know. It seems like a bad idea on so many levels…water+electricty has been proven to be a really dangerous combination. Beyond the safety issue, the actual byproduct is a tank filled with water and everything you vacuum up, which  looks exactly like vomit. And one has to take this tank filled with vacuum vomit and dump it into the toilet and flush it away. If you have read my blog, you will remember that as a kid I had a HUGE problem with puke.  So vacuuming was a nightmare, literally and figuratively.

When I moved out, my roommate and I didn’t have a vacuum cleaner. We were teens. We had a broom. We swept the carpet. Oh that was fun. Quite the work out. Have you ever swept a carpet? It’s like one sweep forward, 3 sweeps back. The dirt pieces rebound backward. So you really have to have a fast sweeping motion with a good amount of pressure and about 3 hours per square foot to actually accomplish dirt removal. Needless to say, our floors were never all that clean.

And then, when I was a young mother, we were given a “vintage” 1972 canister vacuum. I liked antiques and I was born in 1972, so, it was kitschy. But what wasn’t so kitschy was the fact that no place carried bags for this canister vac. So, we had to empty the bag that it came with. This wasn’t as bad as the Rainbow vomit only because dry dirt doesn’t look like throw up. But, dry dirt does leave lots of dust. Kind of defeats the purpose of cleaning in general when you know that to properly clean you have to empty the 25 year old bag which will lead to more dirt.

And then, when we bought our first house, my dad gave us a top of the line vacuum cleaner as a house warming gift! It was nicer than our car. But being house poor, we still did the empty the bag trick as we couldn’t afford the 10 bucks for new bags. It wasn’t so bad though because this vacuum had a filter. By this time a vacuum was necessary. We had 2 kids and 2 dogs and a cat. And so, I vacuumed everything. Walls, furniture, floors, beds, sometimes the kids and most definitely the dogs…the cat was too fast for me.

Because of my misuse of this Cadillac of vacuums, it eventually quit. We tried new belts, new brushes, smaller amounts of time spent vacuuming…we tried everything short of sending it on a cruise. It eventually went on strike and then decided to go back to school to become a leaf blower.

When I moved into my own place I decided that I was going to be a real grown up and go ahead and get my own brand new fancy shmancy vacuum. I went and spent a stupid amount of money on a Dyson. Ya know the vacuum that never stops sucking? Yeah it sucks alright. Not in the way a vacuum should either. But, by this time in my life, I was into doing things myself. When the Dyson died, which it eventually did, I pulled it apart, cleaned it all and put it back together. Mission accomplished. It worked again! Until it didn’t. What is with appliances nowadays? It’s like they only do their job when they feel like it. As if they weren’t made for the sole purpose of doing what they are made for…like they have a life beyond doing their task they were built for. I have had the same problems with my snowblower and my lawn mower. Anyway, I have torn apart a nasty, dirty, filled- with- cat- hair- that- is- coated- with- dog- pee- with- some- kid- puke- making- it- stick- to- the- sides- of- the- hose- Dyson. Yes I have.

This last time though, it was the extension hose that got clogged. I tried banging it, I tried stuffing a knife down the tube, then another knife to try to push out the first knife which got stuck in the tube and then a chopstick to try to unstick both knives…So now I have an extension hose that is clogged with crap plus two butter knives and one chopstick. My next move will be to get the garden hose to try to blast out the entire lot with water…I just haven’t been in the mood.

And 3 months later my house is just gross. It’s summer, there is all sorts of dried cut grass that the kids track in, there is dirt from the dog and the cat hair is outrageous. So, I made the kid go ask my extra awesome neighbor if I could borrow his vacuum. Now, I have to say he is pretty trusting considering he has allowed me to borrow his lawn mower knowing full well I needed his because I have killed 3 of my own…so, to allow me to borrow his vacuum is a huge show of faith on his part. Faith that I will not be mean and kill his vacuum. I don’t do these things intentionally. I am simply using these machines in the way they were intended and I swear to you it’s the machine that is the asshole, not me.

Anyway, as the kids and I “oooh” and “aaaah” over a real working vacuum and how beautiful our floors look and how colorful our carpets are now that an entire layer of dust has been removed, I notice this vacuum is not picking up as well as it did when I first started…4 hours earlier. Yes, 4 hours of vacuuming…and that was just the downstairs. So, I curse modern technology and flip over the vacuum to see if I can find the problem. Sure enough I see a huge clog. I begin pulling it out with my bare hands. Really, if my mother could see me pulling out dirt, real honest to goodness, no other word for it dirt, she would eat her hat.

This was a very involved process. I eventually had the vacuum in about 4 pieces and the belt off. Yes ,I unplugged it first, but only because I knew a kid in high school who went to unclog a snowblower without turning it off first and lets just say that was the end of his flute career. I was a little disappointed with my neighbor’s vacuum. The part that I needed to get in to didn’t pop off like on my Dyson.  I had to really dig in and use my hands, and then the chopstick (the one that isn’t stuck in my vacuum). I used all my moves, all of my technique, which is considerable at this stage in my life, and finally the clog came  bursting out of the hose and right up my shorts. All of the nastiness that I had vacuumed up plus the nastiness from my neighbor’s house was now up my shorts. I thought vacuums were supposed to make life easier and cleaner. Pretty sure that Hepa filter is useless at this point.

Anyway, I finished vacuuming and the kid returned the vacuum. I am now considering hiring someone to come and vacuum my house once every other week or so…I wasn’t made to be a domestic diva. I was supposed to have a different life at age 39. *sigh* My next project is to have a stern discussion with my dryer because it is withholding again…not sure why, considering I only make it work once a week. Spoiled. That is what is wrong with American Made Appliances these days.