He’s Awesome! Wait…What’s Wrong With Him?

So, with the toe sucker weirdos and non-working white chocolate stalkers, I was bound to meet an actual good guy right? Well, during the time of weirdness I did. We will call him Ridiculously Handsome Guy, like that meme. Seriously. He’s one of those. It’s almost disgusting.

This… my ridiculously handsome dude is my area’s version of this… Evil.

I’m going to fall for it hook, line, and glurg-glurg-glurg. That was the sound of my drowning.

So, even with all the badness/madness I’d run into on the dating site, I was not giving up! Dear Lord there had to be someone decent up there, that didn’t worship roasted chickens, or cause a nuclear war. Someone that had a job, some normal beliefs/morals/values. That was geeky enough that they wouldn’t look at me like I was a bug to be pinned on the wall. AND dear baby Hay-soos, could they be a little close to my age and not old enough for me to say “Dada” in all seriousness?!

RHG popped up while I was looking through all my so-called matches.

And I drooled.

I mean, looks aren’t everything, and I honestly didn’t start drooling until I read through his wacky profile. Wacky and a combination of OMG good looks had me drooling like a 1-year-old holding my hand out for the sippy cup. “Want! Want! Want!” Was all I could say at the computer screen.

But I figured “he’s almost too perfect. He probably isn’t into the chocolaty-ness. AND he calls female smokers dragonlady.” My adventurous drooly baby inside of me said “frack that, gimme that sippy cup!”… I should call him Sippy Cup. Yup, I like that more than Ridiculously Handsome Guy.

So, I listen to my inner toddler and emailed Sippy Cup. I let him know up front that I was a smoker, but other than that I loved his profile. Shortly afterwards I get a surprising reply of his interest, at least to be friendly and get to know each other.

So we did, and I can’t find anything wrong with him, other than him being extremely handsome. He’s gotta have warts somewhere, or a serial killer. Maybe his wholesome personality is a cover for wearing women’s clothes and skinning women at night. There has to be something wrong for him to find me attractive and not have any issues that I can automatically see or find out. It just does NOT happen with me.

So I gotta keep an eye out for the crazy to rear its ugly head. I will not be comfortable until I find it. This dude has to be Dexter-ish, or my names not dimensionthe5th.

This isn’t over. My adventures with Sippy Cup and online dating will continue. Hopefully.

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Oh No, I’m Blinded! Dealing With Monster Teen’s Growing Body

I share this because after telling the story to friends, I realized that maybe other mother do not talk with their sons this way. And plus, in hindsight it is hilarious. But when it was happening I was just frustrated.

So my son is a musician, and plays in the school band. The other night he had a performance, and I found out only the night before that he needed to be dressed in a white dress shirt and black slacks. Of course I have to buy this ish short notice!

So after work the next day, I run to the store, estimating my monster teen’s growing size. Pretty much holding things to me and picking a size slightly bigger. It works well for the shirt. For the pants, well, the last size I’d bought him was 32-32. And as a side note, stupid men’s sizes are stupid. Yes, I know they make more sense than a woman’s because you can have a tall skinny dude that needs a tiny waist and all, but it’s too confuzzling for me. So, I just bought his dress slacks in 32-32. I forgot about the one thing my genetics have cursed him with.

My son has a badonkadonk.

This is not a representation of my son. He has a huge butt, but that does not turn him into a monkey.

It is a ridiculously big behind for a male. He’s in denial. He thinks I’m making it up just how like I had him believing for some time that he was a clone after my first of him had an “unfortunate accident.”

But his butt is huge, and when I rushed home, gave him his new clothes to iron and throw on while I changed, I came back out to a visual dilemma.

From behind, his pants looked rather tight. It was showing off just how curvy those back cheeks were.

Me: You gotta go up a size in pants next time.

Monster Teen: Why? They fit.

Me: You look like you are smuggling cantaloupes back there.

Monster Teen: My butt is NOT big Mom!

And then… He turned around and I’m blinded.

Me: Oh no! You can’t go out like that!

MT: What?!

Me: All I see is crotch!

MT: WHAT?!

Me: Your junk is sitting up like a beacon right up front. No one will be able to see anything but that!

You remember in the movie Labyrinth, how we as children were introduced to David Bowie’s package? David Bowie has websites dedicated to his package.

My childhood… if it hadn’t already been sullied, that moment would be now.

 

http://id34111.securedata.net/areaology/area.html

I don’t want my son to have websites. *Shudders*

Monster Teen: What am I…

Me: Can you move it? Push it down the leg of your pants or something. Ugh. Just, just get it out of everyone’s face!

MT: grumble grumble grumble

Me: BIGGER PANTS. And boxer briefs.

If it wasn’t for having to leave out the door at that moment, I would have NEVER let my poor teen go out the door like that. I know he already catches the eye of many a young female. Well the other night he was serving them free teen on a platter with that get-up. Much to my “ew that’s my son” disgust.

How would a man handle this same situation with his son I wonder?

Charmin Bears Are the Nastiest Approved Commercials

Oh Sweet Baby Jesus! This video, this dude knows my heart!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXJ0vw10bKA

AHAHAHAAHAHA! I hate those Charmin Bear commercials. Is it supposed to  be okay showing someone using the restroom because they are cartoon bears? NO, I say! NO!

Parents Please STOP! You and Your Child Are NOT a Special Snowflake

I love STFU Parents Blog http://www.stfuparentsblog.com/. I may have posted things as a parent in the past that are considered overshare  But honestly, nothing as bad as some of the things I’ve seen up there. Some of those posts, whether it’s crazy mommyjacking, or a picture of somebody’s hoohah wide open until you can look up the canal and see the baby’s living room, are just super insane.

Speaking of insane, I give you this link:

http://www.ksdk.com/news/world/article/380371/28/Starbucks-diaper-change-ends-with-call-to-police?sf12781216=1

Yeah. If you feel that this okay, I’d like to come to your house and poop at your dining room table. I swear I’ll be quick and clean it up right afterwards.

I’m so confused… do I eat here or go potty?

Because this is what these privileged parents did. They changed their child’s diaper in an eating/drinking area, had a hissy frackin fit when they were told to clean up. And then threw their coffee on the ground because the workers there were so rude!

I hate people.

Seriously, there is one thing I really can’t stand in the world, and that is privileged parents that think that their children are gods and should be allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want. If little Bobby decides to come to your house and murder your cat “while playing” you shouldn’t be pissed. He’s just precocious!

This isn’t exactly that situation, but why do you think other restaurant goers want your baby’s potty particles all up in their nose and mouth? I don’t want to smell my own bathroom mess, let alone your child’s stanky Similac behind.

A friend asked the question if I was against breast-feeding in public too?

No. NO. Two VERY different things!

Feeding makes sense because guess what? You are in a restaurant! Everyone should eat. Whip out your giggles and feed your monster baby.

But, how does the saying go? You don’t sh** where you eat, and neither should your spawn.

My monster teen, when he was a little nuisance, had complete blowouts whenever he went in his diaper.  As a young parent I got peed and number 2’d on. Just think if I was the parents in the story above changing one of THOSE diapers in a public place where people are eating and drinking. Yeah, that turns my stomach too.

Take that changing pad back to the bathroom with no changing table and lay it on your lap in a stall, or lay your child on the floor or sink. Take your monster out to your car and change their diaper.  Do not make this an accidental scat or golden shower moment while I am sipping my latte.

And frack Starbucks for apologizing. You are just allowing these kind of idiots to continue to act this way.

Makes me wish that there was a law that you couldn’t have children unless you passed a common sense and common decency questionnaire. I swear, it would cut down on welfare lingerers. And parents that think children should be worshiped.

We need… Willy Wonka.

 

Cosplay Should Not Be About Color

My little sister has cosplayed for years… I think she started around 12. I myself only went dressed up to a convention a for the first time about a year ago. I loved it, and have been preparing for my next chance to go (3 costumes all ready to go!). Of course, the last time I went I was in another country, so yes I was one of the few Americans, and definitely the only brown crayon comrade out there. But this time I’m going in the states. And then my sister (who is the cosplay champ in my eyes) sent me this link called “I’M A BLACK FEMALE COSPLAYER AND SOME PEOPLE HATE IT.” People upset at a black woman who loves cosplay because she’s not the “right” skin tone? I could have sworn all those characters were Japanese O_o. It made me realize that when my son and I go to our first cosplay convention in the states, we might not be as accepted as I thought we would be. Will someone actually look at us, and DOWN at us for dressing as a character that doesn’t match our skin tone??? Even though I’ve never received any racism towards me, I shouldn’t have to even worry about it! My family, from my parents, siblings, and son are proud geeks, and should be able to wave our geek flag like anyone else. No one should be judged as they experience their hobby to the fullest.

Except for Furries. I’m sorry. You guys scare me. Sorry for my geek prejudice (geekjudice?)  Okay, I’ll go hide in a corner now.

Customer Service People Nowadays are like a 3-legged Dog Blowing Bubbles out of its Butt.

Exactly what the title says.

You know, the world is supposed to be a whole lot easier now that we can order pretty much anything online right? WRONG you son of a donkey! WRONG.

So, I went to a couple of different furniture dealers in the new area I live, and they didn’t have the exact furniture I had in mine. And yes, I’m picky, picky as all heck when it’s what I want in my home. So a friend (who shall remain anonymous) told me of an online store he found. Said it seemed legit. Famous Last Words.

Well, first, after ordering, I contact the company because after 2 weeks my order says still pending. Come to find out, apparently only in their own little world your billing address HAS to match your shipping address. I have never heard of this before, and I am an online shopoholic. I mean, what if you’re buying a gift for someone. Yes, a gift of 2 bedroom sets. And a dining room table. It could happen.

So we fix that and it takes a week to finish. And let me say that although I had to change my bank information, they had already taken the thousands of dollars for my purchases. I probably should have just cancelled then. But I’m stubborn. And I wanted the exact furniture I paid for. So I stuck through it.

And so the day before I receive a call that they’ll be able to deliver the next day between 4 and 7pm. Weird times to me, but okay. And so day of, I leave work, sit in my house, and make sure everything’s out of the way. And I sit. And sit. And sit. Until at 615pm I start calling the company. No one answers. I leave a message. I go online. Leave a message there. I keep calling back and leave a message with Sales, Customer Service, and the General Mailbox. No answer. No answer. No answer.

730 rolls around and everything I planned to do AFTER the delivery is shot. But I get a phone call. And really, I can barely understand the guy, and I’ve lived in another country for the past 4 years! “Ms. dimensionthe5th, we are on our way. We hit traffic.”

ARE YOU FRACKIN SERIOUS?

“Um, yes. Was the traffic so bad that you could not dial my number until now?”

“Uh, uh… unintelligible gibberish.”

“Fine. When will you be here?”

“About 45 minutes.”

They arrive at 9:30. I guess they can’t count so good either. They seriously take until 1130 to finish, and then, theeeeeeeen, these son of a monkey’s donkey have the nerve to tell me I can put the knobs on my dresser and chest myself. I did a stare. A stare that means I am slowly peeling the skin from your body inch by inch with a rusty knife dipped in a mad cow’s butthole.

They then finish putting on my knobs and leave the house.

Me and my teenage monster do not get to sleep until after 12, and we have work and school the next day. Right now, I’m thinking of making voodoo dolls. It’s been about a week. I don’t think anyone can track it back to me. Maybe.