Oiy, The Drama

I know, I’ve neglected some of my loyal readers all three of them as I haven’t posted for almost an entire week. A whole week bereft of my sarcasm, my humor, and my biting wit. I’ve been dealing with that proverbial “laundry” that needed airing out but is now neatly folded and tucked safely back into the closet. I could always blog about that but come on, do you really want me to bitch, rant, and rave about a failed relationship? I didn’t think so.

Not much to report on in my neck of the woods as the spawn have both been gone and I have been lazing around the homestead for the most part. I did some reading and some cleaning (as you all know) but nothing other than sparing with my former Man and addressing issues at hand which I know would humour you but I would feel guilty about sharing. OH WAIT!!!! OMG, so as ya’ll know I spent what felt like DAYS cleaning the house. While in my son’s room scraping away layer upon layer of dust and grime, I turned to empty the hated Florida Gator garbage can and do you know what I found? Evidence he did not even bother to hide from my prying parental eyes? Two empty beer bottles. (You were waiting to read condoms, weren’t you? I’ve already run that marathon so no news there. Remind me to tell you all about the heart-to-heart we, or rather I had about sex and sexually transmitted diseases. Spawn. Was. Mortified.) So anywho, I found these two beers in Spawns garbage can. Not only were they not hidden but those were two of MY beers. MY BEERS! That little bastard went into my stash of Bud Lite that I keep in the vegetable crisper, (because really, who keeps vegetables in their refrigerator’s crisper anymore?) snagged two beers, and drank them both. I wrote a short note and taped it to one of the bottles that said “WHAT THE HELL?!?” and waited to see how long it would take him to see the 4x4 bright green note hanging over the edge of the gator’s head painted on the garbage can. Nothing, that little worm said not one word to me. You know why? HE DIDN’T SEE THE NOTE! In fact, the note I had written and left for him Saturday is still there! I had to bring up the subject and go through the whole “this is unacceptable”, “you’re throwing your life into the gutter”, and “you’re going down the path your father chose, is this where you want to wind up” conversation and he acted like it was not big deal. NO BIG DEAL!

So what do I do? Should I leave it alone, just count my beer bottles, and not worry about it until he does it again (because we all know he will - he’s sixteen). I’d kinda feel like a hypocrite if I continue harping about this to him, you know? Because come on, raaaaise your hand if you hijacked some beer or liquor from your parents when you were a teenager. Yup, just as I thought; every single one of you has your hand raised. Okay, how many of you had smoked a hog-leg or two of skunk weed by the time you were sixteen? I see that a few hands have gone down, including my sister’s, but I still see quite a few raised. So what do I do? Help me out guys, I’m floundering and that’s not a swimming stroke I’m comfortable with. What? Only two of my readers have teenagers and those kids are straight A students who have never traveled the wrong side of the law? None of those cute little kindergartners have ever stolen a beer or smoked some weed? None? Not even the ones that live in California?!?!?!

CRAP!!!! I’m doomed to a life of eternal lecturing, aren’t I? I hate lectures. I’d much prefer condemning him to a short stay in an iron maiden than lecture him. You guys got any good lines I could throw in as a good moral to my lesson? No? Ooooooh, you want to hear more about the sex talk instead, don’t you? Alrighty then, your wish is my command.



(to be continued)

(Don't you hate those words? Right when you're getting into a story or movie and you KNOW you've figured out the plot, those evil little words pop up outta nowhere ruining your entire day.)

BASTARDS!