PSA

Oh and one quick thing.......there's been a bump in Deep Thoughts traffic lately which is WAY cool. If ya like it, it's kinda like Beyonce says......put a ring on it! No, don't do that. But pass it along to your friends. Follow. Subscribe. "Like" on facebook. Share the love. 'Cause I love ya back. That concludes my shameless self-promotion for the day. 

Christmas Card

I am not sending Christmas cards this year. Primarily because Christmas cards aren't just "Christmas cards" anymore. They are basically a picture of either your entire family or of your adorable children that shows everybody you know how flipping GREAT your life is. If you look really awesome, you are in the picture for sure. How your husband looks is completely irrelevant. He's just a guy in a turtleneck that completes the happy picture. If you look awesome and are incredibly successful, you will want to make sure that the photo in question was taken at some fabulous locale. "Oh look, honey! It's the Green's! They're repelling down Mt. Kilamanjaro! Even the baby! Isn't that cute!?" Gack. But I digress. I have an 11-year old boy. That's it. And as you can see from the last time I made an attempt at a Christmas card, he's a smart-ass. It doesn't go well. "Look angelic, you little cretin" only goes so far. And after just announcing that if you yourself are in the Christmas card photo you must think you look tremendously tremendous, I sure as shit am not going to hop into the frame. What I should do, and very well might now that I think of it, is assemble my family and go stand in front of a trailer park or something. There's one around here called the "Flying Saucer RV Park" and the sign features an alien. If I can get somebody to take our picture you'd better believe there will at LEAST be a Deep Thoughts Christmas card photo comin' at ya hot. Stay tuned. I'm going to go scout out the location. 

The Grinch One, Jesus Zero

Hey Guys.......It's me Mol........this is my friend Greg Brainer's guest post!  If for some reason it doesn't format well, hold tight 'til Dave gets home and we'll fix it.  Enjoy!

That's correct, the Grinch has beaten Jesus on his own turf.  If you still believe there is Christmas spirit left in America,  get off your meds or sober up because it's gone.  Some may find my views bitter and twisted, yet they are that of a true realist scorned due to his once kind being.

Growing up as a youths during the 1970's, most have fond memories of what Christmas was.  Towns decorated with festive lights, a nativity scene in front of the public library, neighbors who actually knew each other by name getting together for caroling.  There was no such thing as last minute gift shopping on Christmas Eve. Retailers were closed and at home, where they should be, with family.  A Christmas day movie at the cinema was unheard of.  Yes, those thoughts almost make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, even without liquor.  

I must ask, where the hell did Christmas go?

Last year I had to run into the Meijer Thrifty Acres, now just called Meijer's, on Christmas Eve for some last minute food crap.  First time ever I noticed they were staying open until 10PM that night.  Nothing pisses me off more than chains and retailers who work their employees on what should be family time.  As I'm a regular, I know most of the staff including the special needs greeters. On my way to the checkout I grabbed an extra bottle of wine for my favorite cashier.  After a nice chat about what assholes she worked for I paid and gave her the bottle of wine wishing her a Merry Christmas.  She  immediately refuses my simple gift token due to it being against corporate policy and she would get fired.    Fired for a regular customer giving a diligent, nice store employee a gift????  Screw any motivation for good genuine customer service.  No no no, this certainly was not happening and I went and found the manager.  To my dismay, the manager reiterated corporate policy is no items purchased from the store can be accepted by employes  from patrons as gifts.  I then asked if I went across the street to Stinky's party store ( I don't know the actual name of the party store I just know it smells like ass inside ) and bought a bottle of wine for her as a gift could she accept that?  Perplexed, the manager was not sure however he was too busy to look it up.  His suggestion was to just wish her a happy holiday and not get her in any trouble.  At this point I was crazed and told this asswipe “it's not a holiday, it's fucking Christmas!!! If I cannot give a simple gift to one of your employees who works her ass off and always is glad to see me, corporate America has fucked up Christmas beyond repair.”  

Sadly, the bottle of wine I purchased with the intent of giving it to the cashier was the good kind - corked verses a twist off cap.  This made drinking it during my frustrated drive home not in the cards.  The time was around 6PM.  As I ventured along, I noticed McDonald’s, Chili's, Taco Bell, Lowes, all brightly lit and open for business.  Seriously, people need and want fast food on Christmas Eve?  For that matter, who the hell is going to be doing home improvements the night before Jesus pops out???  As I passed our town library, there was no nativity scene or even one single sign near it that it was Christmas.  My town is 98.7% white Christians. Who the hell are we going to offend by putting baby Jesus on the library front lawn???  This kinda shit didn't happen 30 years ago.

I could ramble more, but Christmas as we once knew it, is gone. On the bright side, maybe they will start letting us be nice at Easter since it is celebrating Jesus's death.....

Get Ready for Brainer.........

Yikes........I haven't posted this much in a day in forever. Most of you may have noticed that my last post was originally entered LAST December. However my very dear friend Brainer sent me a "guest column" if you will, and it caused me to recall "Ho ho ho, Dumbass". I read it again. And I stand by it. And I also remember why I got kicked off the board of the PTA. Stuff like that entry. And making fun of mom jeans. You'd think wearers of mom jeans would have thicker skin. Hey, I calls it like I see it. If you don't like it, I'm pretty sure you don't have to read it. Recall the person who asked me to please clean up my language. Answer? NO. Anyway, I will be posting Brainer's thoughts shortly. He is an even bigger smartass than me but he also has some interesting shit to say.  Oh and PS? Remember to "Follow" the blog if you don't already. And "share" the stuff you like on facebook. And if you don't participate in facebook, forward links to your friends. You're like Mollie's Little Helper's. Well, you and those pills my doctor gave me. They help too. 

Jack and the Beanstalk. I Mean Planner.

I love my child. Truly I do. He is one of the coolest, funniest kids I know. Has a rather mature sense of humor for an 11-year old and not only "gets' sarcasm but wields it like a sword. I like it. The only problem with my boy is that there is NO arguing with him. I have NO idea where he got that from. Okay, yes I do. There is also no arguing with me. Which is why it's a very good thing that he is upstairs right now insisting that Friday is the first day of Winter Break. It's not. It is the last day of school BEFORE break. He is telling his dad that it says it starts on Friday "IN HIS PLANNER". Gee, Jack.......I just got onto the school website and it says that Friday is the last day of school. "Winter" parties and all. Jack: "Well it's wrong. I wrote in my planner that it starts Friday". Apparently Jack has some kind of magical planner that makes whatever he scrawls in it happen. Oh, let's see......Monday......African Safari!  Nice! And on Christmas Eve, FAO Schwarz in Manhattan appears to be opening it's doors only to him for an unlimited shopping spree. Looks like in April there's something about a trip to the moon but I can't quite make that out. I've got few things I'd like to write in that planner........all day spa treatment at Tall Grass Spa, cleaning ladies every Friday, someone to do my bidding every day, etc. Gimme that thing. Oh wait. That's right. It doesn't work. No matter what Jack says, break officially starts on Monday. And I have just informed him of that. I think my exact quote was, "You can tell me it starts on Friday 'til you're blue in the face but it doesn't. End of discussion". And as I typed this I had a horrible thought. What if there's a snow day? There is a storm coming. And then he'd BE RIGHT. Oh God. Maybe that planner is MAGICAL. Jack and the Magical Planner. There's a story there. Part of the plotline would be that his horrible mother steals it and uses for evil. Too bad I'm not his stepmother. That would be better.  Gotta go. I've got a planner to steal. And Harry Potter-like world domination to plot. Move over JK Rowling. There's a new billionaire in town.

You Be Illin'

I am sorry but there is a BIG difference between a sick man and a sick woman. As cliche as it may be, it's freaking TRUE. Those of you who are facebook friends of mine are aware that Dave has been sick. He came home from work yesterday and said, "What did you say about me on facebook?" Uh.......I say LOTS of stuff about him on facebook. Apparently the remark in question was in regards to his terrible illness. People at his office were surprised he was not hospitalized given the gravity of the wasting disease described in my posts. When I explained to him that I was simply pointing out that he was horribly ill, (and yes, making fun of him) he said, "That's SUCH a woman thing". Well, being a big fat baby when you're sick is SUCH a man thing. NO PERSON HAS EVER BEEN SICKER THAN A MAN WITH A COLD. It's not just Dave. It's my dad, my brother, my male friends, my friend's husbands, etc., etc. For some reason a sick male (a notable exception being your sick male child......it's a mommy thing) is extra annoying. Maybe it's that our female brains are wired to need our males to be capable and strong. Provide and protect and all that. A sick man is neither capable OR strong. More like a big lump with a box of Kleenex. Scratch that. A MOANING big lump with a box of Kleenex. That sneezes and coughs. It's not that I'm lacking a care-taking instinct.  I was not berating him while he was feeling poorly. I asked him if he needed anything, fetched him water, and procured his medications. I even asked him if he would like something special to eat. Oh, and bought him popsicles. POPSICLES, PEOPLE!!!!!! That's above and beyond. But appropriate levels of compassion notwithstanding, I think a big factor in our lack of ability to fully sympathize is this: CHILDBIRTH. Nothing you can do, men........cold, flu, loss of limb will ever make up for the fact that for nine months or more we chicks were pregnant. And then either physically forced a child out of our bodies or had them surgically removed. Splayed open like a halibut I was. So maybe that's what it's all about. Poop out a bowling ball and then maybe we'll feel a little worse when you start sniffling. Maybe we're just a pack of bitter battle axes. But probably not. Or maybe it's the one time a man can let his guard down and be vulnerable. You don't have to be big and strong when you be illin'. You can revert to being a sick little boy in footy pajamas. And maybe you just want your mommy. But your wife is not your mommy, unfortunately and maybe that's why we aren't capable of treating you as such. Ahhhhh, geez......I can hear him about to hack up a lung. Better go check on him. And call 911. Dispatcher: "What's your emergency?" Me: "My husband has a cold". Dispatcher (speaking into radio): "Flight for Life??? We have a pick-up in Morrison. STAT." 

Single Parent

Well, it's Thursday everybody! The college kid and bored housewives portal to the weekend! And I'm looking forward to it actually. You see, last weekend Dave was in Michigan for a couple of shows. He's a rock star, in case you didn't know. Well, a guy with a guitar that gets paid money to sing. He's also a real estate broker so that kinda disqualifies him as "rock star" per se. He'll rock your world! Then show you a nice bungalow in Berkeley. Recently remodeled! And then he'll smash a guitar. But anyway, he was in Michigan. His being in Michigan did not bother me so much. What did bother me was figuring out what to do as a "single parent" with my eleven-year old son. I realized that a lot of what goes on around here on the weekends is sports related. It's Dave and Jack watching college football on Saturday. And NFL football on Sunday. And college hoops in between. And when there is a commercial, they are throwing a football around my living room. It's a lot of man shit. So I'm wondering what in the HELL I going to do all weekend to entertain this child. I should have been more worried about entertaining myself. He was plenty occupied. He had his friend over on Friday night. I actually had a friend over too. Sat in the kitchen and chatted while the kids were downstairs. So that wasn't so bad. Saturday morning I made him breakfast and he chilled while I did typical housewife crap. Including running around the back yard frantically waving a piece of pizza in an attempt to save Grady from a gigantic elk. *SEE PHOTO......do I lie?* Then his friend came over. They hung out until it was time to leave for the movie I had promised to take them to that afternoon. We stopped at Walgreen's as in a cost-cutting move, I have started smuggling their candy and drinks into the theatre. Hey, I'm still buying tickets. And popcorn. I'm not completely bucking the system. I'm just walking into a theatre with a gigantic Coach purse that looks like there's a bobcat about to bust out of it at any given second. No biggie. So, we settle into our seats. Eat some corn. Can't take the contraband snacks out until it's dark. I find myself getting sized up by the very obviously single dad's who are trying to entertain the kids they have for the weekend. Kinda like me. Except I'm not single. I should really look into this wedding ring thing so that I can avoid getting the raised eyebrow from imabigfatbalddivorcee.com Ewww. Bottom line, the movie, Megamind, sucked. Jack said, "Wow. That was a big waste of Will Ferrell's talent". Aptly put, Gene Shallot. BUT, it blew some time. We go home. His friend wants to stay. That's cool. But nobody wants to play with me. My friends were either out of town or going on dates with their stupid husbands. Smug marrieds. The kids are downstairs. I offer to make them a nacho bar. That's how bored I was. They come to the kitchen, get their delicious nachos and go downstairs. And start jamming music. Oh, and playing Twister.  At this point I realized how truly pathetic my life had become. Well, my Saturday but "life" sounds more dramatic. I wanted to play Twister with MY friends. At this point it's like 7:30. I decide that in a show of protest and self-pity, I will put on my flannel pajamas, get a blanket and sit on the couch. With a Diet Coke. I refused to participate in the nacho bar. It was kind of a hunger strike move. Like the kids cared. So I'm on the couch, watching Sex and the City. The movie. I had sworn I would never watch that simply on the principle that it's retarded. But it made for a good visual. Me, on the couch, in the flannels, with the blanket. Watching Sex and the City. All that was missing was the pint of Haagen Daz. Reference aforementioned hunger strike. It was like I was sick but I wasn't. Sick of that freakin' Saturday, alright. Suffice to say, Dave got home just in time for the Lion's game on Sunday and there was much rejoicing. Being a single parent is not for the faint of heart. Or the easily bored, spoiled girl who is used to having people around to entertain her and do her bidding. Dude. I had to rub my own bunions. And that's just not cool.  So happy weekend, everybody! Mine is looking up.