What you know Joe

Dear Joe Burglar and Joe Stalker,

Unlike your brethren, Joe Cool, Big Joe Polka Show, Joe DiMaggio, and Joe Nameth, they didn't feel the need to violate my space. It is motherfuckers like you that deepen my convictions on a harsher illegal immigration policy, harsher prison sentences, reinstating the death penalty, and stricter rules regarding legal immigration. Oh yeah. Mean people suck.

What I'm trying to figure out is how long were you following me? Who are you? What the hell were you thinking that you were going to pull off? How long were you casing B.J and Minnie's home?

In the grand scheme of things I'm just a average Jane. Last time I checked I haven't been on a proper date in three years. I haven't outright rejected anyone. I say please, thank you, and I'm sorry. Even when it's not my fault, I do it just to keep the peace. I had NO idea what it meant when a preacher would say "the devil came like a thief in the night".No doubt. By the grace of God, you never got hold of my nephew. Goddamn fucking straight I'm not just his aunt. I'm his bodyguard and my rates just went up. There's something to be said for being a fabulous and thick lady packing the pounds. Once upon a time I wrestled away keys and tackled a drunk who wanted to drive. God don't make ugly but he did make crazy and I got in line twice. Today you didn't get him. With every breath in my being you will never lay a finger on him.

I take solace in the little things. The cash from my tote bag isn't going to get you very far. When you pilfered my wallet and discovered my saints prayer cards, that enacted my security system. God is my security guard. He along with the 12 Apostles and karma have your license plate buddy. The cell phone wasn't charged. The credit card was past due. How cool are you going to look to the other thieves and pillagers when they find out that you swiped a fucking Hyundai in a sea of Volvo's, Hondas, Jeeps, Ford Explorer's and Toyota Camries? Even I, average Jane,knows that if you're going to swipe a car, a Toyota Camry brings you the most cash in the chop shop. Dumbass!!!!!

I'd like to add that I hope you enjoy cleaning the bird crap that will fall on that car at least twice daily. Enjoy the other religious item, guilt is something that always comes gift-wrapped.

Sincerely,

Annoyed Auntie

ETA: I overanalyzed everything because of the worrywart gene as well just because I'm me. I was raised not to question authority. Looking back I thought, "Why didn't I yell? Why didn't I scream?" If I had slept downstairs, I would have been assaulted and killed without a soul in sight.

B.J. reminds me that the robbing Joes could have slashed my throat. If I had raised my voice, would it have been worth it if B.J. died defending his family? Even worse, I'd be stuck with widowed Minnie and the coven by myself for life. I shudder at the thought. For all the posts where I lash out at B.J. I know I'd be devastated if anything were to happen to him. He says he'd go on without me. After today, I know I'd have a hard time to go on without him. I don't even want to think if anything had happened to Zach.

In true Mertz style, Fred blamed the entire situation on me. Ethel blamed Fred for not having the proper paperwork. He didn't want to stay to help with the clean-up. I think the whole thing rattled him and changes will have to be made whether he likes it or not.
If I had slept downstairs, I could have been physically assaulted and left for dead.

Even Drunken Princess put in an appearance today. I do have to give Minnie's friends props. They came by and helped with repairs. They offered Minnie and I some comic relief. Their kids were a good distraction for Zach.

By the grace of God do we all go.

There's a fungus among us

Today's wake up call came at 7am. Apparently Fred had a doctor's appointment he's known about for a week and forgot to let his driver(me) know that her services were needed. It's such a pet peeve of mine when people do that. On the road, Fred decides to let me in on some secrets he heard about Ethel's sister, Aunt Imogene. Apparently while BJ and I were at our respective colleges, she would call them pretending to be Ethel, to check up on our grades. Somehow it didn't surprise me knowing her envious nature. But one time she got stone cold busted when she called Whattsamatta U. Whoever she was speaking to on the phone knew Fred. Fred owned a restaurant across the street from W.U. and all of the faculty and staff would go there to eat all of the time. The spokesperson on W.U confronts Aunt Imogene and says "You know your husband Fred told me that you don't speak very little English I'm surprised at your grasp of the language". She never called W.U ever again. W.U. 1 - Aunt Imogene 0. Her daughter Starlabelle was accepted to Whattsamatta but went somewhere else where academcially she could be a big fish in a small pond. It worked out for Starlabelle. She married an alumnus of W.U. she met in law school. They now have 2.5 kids, a minivan, and live the typical suburban life.

Bless her heart, she does have her ways. FYI, bless her heart is a southern code set up for a dig but in a polite manner. She would scan the obituaries in the local papers and attend funerals of people from the ethnic background as us. The odd part is that she didn't know these people. The only connection is that they were from the tribe. She's a member of the church choir . There she is every Sunday singing off key loud enough for the twelve Apostles and their friends to hear her in heaven. Unfortunately she is of the school that if you show up to pray in a crowd that means you can be witch the other six days. Ironically all of her kids, Beaureguarde, Starlabelle, and Lulubelle, all married someone outside of the tribe.

I just couldn't stand it. I found some time by myself and took a drive. I don't like it when I'm cranky. It took awhile to shake it off. On my journey to a destination unknown, I was thinking of a goal I want to accomplish. I looked at the liscense plate on the car. It said NVRGVUP. I hope it's a good sign. God does speak in whispers. If it's one thing I know how to do, it's perservere. And when the tough get going, the tough go shopping. Don't worry I won't be the first one in line for debtor's prison if the powers that be decide to open them up.

I went to my favorite thrift/resale shops and stocked up on books and videos. One thing you never see is porn/erotica at these places. I wonder how you'd recycle stuff like that. I'm not talking about toys but just in paper form. Ebay doesn't have anything that I'm aware of. There must be some kind of porn swap meet somewhere. There's a fetish for everything.

On the coven watch, Lynnie's in-laws crossed the border and will be at BJ and Minnie's house tomorrow. Apparently they're giving the state of Indiana a thrill and there's more than corn in Indiana.

Is it any wonder?

And so it goes, no good deed ever goes unpunished. I spent half of the night picking out boogers out of my eye and very little sleep. The rat in the hat complex has poor hygiene. The only time I saw anyone with a spray bottle was on the tables that weren't being used. WTH are these parents thinking by not washing their kids hands? The whole idea is completely vomitrocious.

I spent some time updating some link information and was pleasantly surprised at Margaret Cho's website. She is coming out with another book. Cat's grin we SOOO have to go. I went with her to the first booksigning Margaret Cho had a few years ago.

Speaking of links, ladies an answer to our prayers. Are you tired of dealing with asshats? Men who should be labeled under construction, living on the down low, married, separated, deadbeat, into bestiality etc...I'm not saying women are perfect but you've got to check this out. It's called http://www.dontdatehimgirl.com. This site is pure genius. Between this and the show, Cheaters ,you're better able to make a more educated decision about who you let into your life.
This shouldn't be just for straight people. There should be one gays, transgenders, crossdressers, and other fetishes. There are bad apples in every bunch.

It's Thursday so that means pick up a Chicago Reader and figure out how to occupy your time.
Their online personal ads are sometimes funny. Now that there's a kinkier section you'll see Fred Fetish's ad about how he's into leather, vinyl, and is a guest lecturer at the Fetish Ball. Then you see Fred's more vanilla ad on the regular personal ad talking about how he likes to go to The Musicbox, catch a show at The Metro, and likes walks along the lakefront. Sounds like Fred's new name should be Sybil.

I've talked to a few people who are going to graduate school. I'm at such a crossroads right now. I don't know what to do. I'm asking for the impossible in wanting a guarantee. There are so few things in the world that are. Ideal situation would be to find a job at said college of my choice so I get tuition for free and still have insurance.

And no day would be complete without the daily digs from Ethel. The minute my coffee cup touches the table BOOM you need to fill in the blank. Every request is followed by "It's such a pity that you haven't lost weight". GEE. Hmm that's it. All of my problems would be solved if I shed half of my body weight in three days.

Driving Miss Daisy

Well eager readers, I spent last weekend participating in a Chicago city ritual known as "The Block Party". I could tell you tales of joy of being in the bosom of my brother's neighbors but life doesn't work like that for me. My morning consisted of trying to get Fred and Ethel ready for the outing. This means helping with hair, wardrobe, and of course listening and or watching the motherland news just in case it's brought up with the neighbors who aren't' of the same ethnic background as us. Whenever I have to drive with Fred, he's apparently having flashbacks of the eighties and the time he tried to teach me how to drive. It was not a Mr. Brady moment, it was more Ralph Kramden turned up to eleven. He expected me to cross traffic because dammit the moment was there. I know the car has the side impact bags and I'm truly grateful. I highly doubt we'd walk away without a scratch if we were hit by oncoming cars going 50+ miles an hour. You do the math.

Verbal digs about everything from my choice of route to my choice of dress were aplenty. He knew there was construction on a certain street and failed to warn me until we were on said street. He smirked, "You're going to have to go another way."It pisses me off to end to have Monday morning quarterbacking thrown at me. Hey you went out this morning. You drove by the construction area near the mall. You could have said something about it before I even got in the car. Anyway usual conversation involves me reminding them to behave themselves. For Fred this means not to make certain remarks about certain ethnic groups. He's the Archie Bunker of the suburbs. Every time we drive to the house of BJ and Minnie, Fred goes on about why did they ever move to the city. Catch a clue Clyde, Minnie doesn't like you or Ethel. She had the tits to actually say this to Ethel's face on a drive once. I told Fred I'd get as close to the block as possible to drop them off and I'd parallel park and meet them there. Oh no no. Not good enough, Fred pitched a fit loud enough for the neighbors to hear about how I'm a bitch for not parking where he wanted . Oh yeah, the embarrassment factor was high and I parked as I saw fit. Entry into the house of BJ and minnie was followed by Minnie grabbing a pop and going out the door. Then BJ lectures me about how I need to be a better person. Sure. I'll also lose weight, become a blond, regrow my virginity, and marry the man you want. Get bent. At least we saw the kids' pet parade go by. We didn't stay for the cookout for Fred had forgotten to take his insulin pen with him. No harm no foul. Since we were coming over Minnie made sure to stock the fridge with oh NOTHING. Any member of the coven arrives, it's stocked with things that would make Oprah Winfrey weep.

Fred and Ethel were very excited about seeing the grandson. Minnie had taken him out of town for business for two weeks for the business she and the coven have created. The little fella had a great time. He was entertained with trips to the train museum, local zoo, and other g-rated locations. Apparently it was too much for Ginnie to handle him for a week so Lynnie graced the states with her prescence. It ticks me off the way BJ is always praising Lynnie. He gloats,"She's works so well with children. She's such a delight to be around ever since she got married. " Give me a break. She has master's degree in education. I would hope the money her mom paid did not to go a paper mill college. The minute her broom touched down into their home last winter, the first thing out of her mouth was "Gee they really haven't done much with the place have they?" Oh yeah, sure she's just fabulous.!

I get the business about not having a job but it's okay for her not to. The double standard bullshit just never ends. The reason she doesn't have a job allegedly is that darling husband didn't fill out the proper paperwork for her to work over the border. He's a moron. If you're getting married and your future wife has to go through red tape to work in your country wouldn't it behoove you to get the ball rolling a day or two earlier. They met courtesy of a website I'll lovingly call inbreeding.com. I think it's great they met and married. It's all a crap shoot no matter how many pre-nups and couseling sessions you have . There's no way you can have a personality makeover once the honeymoon is over. If you were a asshat before most likely you'll always be an asshat.

Today's events involved the usual last minute request from the house of BG and Minnie to babysat. I was allowed to take the young ward to a place I'll call Crackland for Kids otherwise known as Chuck E Cheese. The kid hadn't been there in at least two weeks and he knew how to get there after I parked the car. The minute we enter the doors he was off like a dress on prom night. My nephew asks,"I wanna token. Gimme money" I took cash out of my wallet to start because I knew if I didn't use Minnie's money wisely, the news would run the gauntlet of the family gossip mill. Sometimes being able to mobilize 150 relatives with just one phone call isn't such a good thing. A went on every ride I could think of. He freaked at the sight of costumed Chuck E. Cheese. He got scared and didn't want to dance with the other kids. I calmed him down by telling him it's just a grown up in a costume. Of course when we got home, he lies to Minnie and tell her how he danced with the other kids and met Chuck E. Cheese. Like mother like son.

Actually he was pretty good for the most, he held my hand when I asked him to, sat down when I needed to dig in the purse, and tested the code word I had in place he encountered some creep if he got separated from me. I told him to yell "Bad Touch". He only took off once but knew it wasn't right when I sat him back down. The way it's setup is admission is free but to eat, ride, or play games you have to pay for it. And after three hours , brother did I ever. When you played games you got tickets which you turned in later for prizes. Some games were fun like punch the duck, feed the bear apples and try not to get him hit by a nut thrown by a squirrel, punch the plinko disks. He was too young to play skeeball and learned that the hard way. For some reason the pinball game would just never end and that was annoying. With our earnings he got Chuck E. Cheese stickers and matching puzzle. There was the added bonus of the Chuck E. Cheese balloon but hopes were dashed because I wouldn't let him play with it in the backseat. No dice. My favorite souvenir was for 1 token there was a machine that drew your picture. I posed with Phew twice. It was cute. In the first one he was looking up and in the second one he looked at the camera. I kept the better one because I knew Minnie would "accidentally" throw it away.
Which brings me to the following rant.

He was watching a Barney video that I had gotten for him. He was acting up and as punishment she threatened to throw it out. Excuse me. How about throwing out the gifts that the coven gets him? It caused me great umbrage to see the blankets that my mother and I knitted by HAND for him were tossed on the floor of the laundry room for weeks on end but all of the store bought crap by her sisters is surrounding his bedroom. I swear to God if I ever find out that she threw out the teddy bear that I bought him when he was born, I'll will nail her to wall cross free. Also the name calling of him b-r-a-t. Hey you're raising him, you could change your tactics. He knows not to test Auntie Starla. She don't play.

Oh happy day

In an interesting turn of events I went to the movies with BJ and saw March of Penguins at Old Orchard. I didn't park on the Maggiano's side because I inverted the theater numbers in my head. Apparently it was make balloon animals at Chammp's because it was like daycare just let out and throngs of kids with families were everywhere.

And much to my surprise, former place of employment was gone. Booted. 86'd. In its place another store that I doubt will keep the publics interest....Woohoo!!!! Bwahahaha!!! Perhaps I will write a letter to Westfield Malls to thank them for not renewing the evil bosses lease. I didn't steal the money just as I had said you assholes. Yet I had it deducted from my final paycheck because I was the manager. You refused to give it to me unless I agreed to your terms. Jerk. After it was discovered that psycho E. and little P. were the real thieves, no charges were pressed against them. After the money was recovered, it would have been common courtesy to give me an apology and my money back you weasel. I have my faults just like anyone else. I was guilty of wanting to help out a relative and I got majorly screwed for it. E. was a nutcase who flew under my radar. By the time I figured out what was up I begged my bosses to let me fire her. They wouldn't let me. On the upside is if they're out of business they can't badmouth me anymore. B. and S. you got exactly what you deserved. Thus proving my theory of what goes around comes around. Karma radar is always on. Remember to use your power for good and not evil.

Things were tough enough with the bad references he's given me when I first tried getting another job. It didn't do wonders for the state of my mental health. I have no clue what's going to happen this time around. They even screwed me out of unemployment. The bastards. I really don't want to go back to retail. I have done my time behind the counter. I've worked my share of Sundays, late nights, and major holidays when you maybe get one person in the store for the entire day. Not to mention Black Friday, 12 hour shifts, late night mall hours and gift wrapping until your hands cramp up. All of that headache and not getting paid a living wage. Just swell. Also one of the downsides of being a worker bee in the mall is the amount of crime that often goes unreported. Unless it's really bad, ie death, the public is never going to hear about it. My rant is over.

I really enjoyed March of the Penguins. I admit I dozed off in some parts but I'm not sure if it was from the air conditioner or the soothing voice of Morgan Freeman narrating. The cinematography was spectacular. The different shades of blue were amazing. There was this shot of a glacier and on the side there was this mosaic design of blue. It was amazing to me that they were able to film this and not disturb the process that the penguins go through. With the descriptions , it reminded me how animals and humans express basic values. To see boy and girl penguins rest their beaks on each other and make a heart shape really touched me. I covered my eyes when they did closeups of them being attacked and killed by their prey. I'm just built that way. That's why I wouldn't recommend this for kids under 7. A few of the baby penguins die as well and you'd have to have to where babies come from talk I'm guessing. I don't know if anyone else does this but I stay and watch the credits. It's important to remember that a lot of people were involved to make this film get to the big screen . This could be a date movie possibly.

Silent Lucidity

People say that being a parent is the toughest job you'll ever have. I'll take their word for it but I'd like to add another one. Being a caregiver to your parents is no cakewalk. It was a tough weekend with preparing Mom for her colonoscopy test this past Monday. Sunday was bad. It was a liquid diet and drinking the Phosostuff that is totally icky. My bodyclock is still trying to get back to normal after waking up at 4am to get to the hospital by 7am. On the upside the doctor who did the test is the head of the GI department. I got the lowdown from one the nurses. The nurses and cnas in the endoscopy department were really sweet. I know my family is very lucky that this time there is no cancer in her colon but the mystery continues. Why does her breath smell the way it does? That funk has to be coming from somewhere. Hopefully her oncologist will have an answer for me.

When I was up late Sunday night, I shocked to see Charles Gibson talking about the death of Peter Jennings. I felt so bad for him. He appeared to be teary-eyed throughout the entire broadcast.

I felt guilty because I had prayed to God to have my mother not have cancer before I had turned on the television. Cancer seems to be such a crapshoot. Even if it's in remission, there's always the possibility of a return visit. Unlike my usual bargaining prayers of God if my parent lives I promise I'll give something up. But this time I said, I'll get married if that's what you want. I was feeling unsure so I asked God to give me a sign that she'll be okay. I went to bed.

When I woke up I went to the living room to turn on the TV and was having problems getting it turned on. My parents have the Dishtv system. Along with TV channels, there's additional access to music stations that are part of the Sirrus network. My parents have never used the Sirrus radio section of the Dishtv. After I finally turned on the TV , the channel it came to was the Gospel one and it was playing music. Something like this usually would freak me out but I had this sense of calm. Oprah says God speaks in whispers. I feel lucky to have finally gotten one after all of these years of being one step behind.

Speaking of Oprah, I actually had a an "Aha moment". There's a section of "O" magazine where people write an article how they finally figured out something. I thought it was a bunch of bs myself until it finally happened to me. The night before I had also watched on PBS the program "Life Laundry". It's a reorganize your house by getting rid of crap show based from England. I think it's much funny than anything put out by HGTV. After getting the exam results, it finally hit me why I hold on to things longer than I have to. In my mind, I thought if I didn't clean things up my parents won't die. Logically it doesn't make sense, but to me it was a child's way of trying to gain control where she had none. I can't control the outcome of my parents health. Period. If my place is clean or messy their fate is already slated. If I get a job or go back for grad school that won't change anything for them in the grand scheme of things. Everybody dies eventually. It's a sad thought but a reality check nonetheless.

Something Familiar Something Peculiar

New month. New template. Same old me. It's been awhile since I've last written. I wish there were extenuating circumstances but there weren't. The dog didn't eat my homework. I didn't find Jesus. But for those born-again Christians who've claimed to have found him, could you let the rest of us in on the location? I have a few questions I'd like to ask. I have no problem waiting in line. After waiting 12 hours with my parents so they could get a flu shot, anything else is golden. I can bring my own folding chair, waterbottle, sandwich, and good book. I know the drill.

I've spent some time getting reacquainted with my camera. I'd forgotten how much fun I had taking them. Maybe I'll actually I'll post some if I ever get the nerve. Being shy and artistic does have it's drawbacks. People will ask to see a sample of my work and I'm just too afraid of the rejection. I don't know why I am the way I am. I'm sure I'll be celebrated just like every other artist. Hundreds of years later after I'm dead.

Rejection is an old long time friend. From jobs, friends, boyfriends, and other near misses, I should either pack up and move to Nashville to be a songwriter or hit the road singing the blues. I kid you not. In a span of one week, I lost my job, my boyfriend, and my apartment. It reminds me of the old Heehaw skit, a bunch of drunken hillbillies would sing this song called "Doom, Despair, and Tragedy on Me". One of the lines is "if it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all".

I feel much better. Avoiding confrontation is one of my better traits. If I don't see you, I don't have to deal with whatever it is that is causing drama. Eventually it gets nipped in the bud, but I prefer to get my ducks in a row before that happens. The gift of time is good thing. Out of sight and out of mind and with that we will bid adieu to mr. potential from the lovely state of Washington. Thank you Seattle I love you.