I'd Rather Call My Mom's Vagina My Hometown

Today my BFF and bad-ass assistant told me that she would only be in for half a day this Friday because she wants to go to homecoming at Lawson.  Of course my response was "Eww".  She doesn't seem to get why I am totally mortified when I think of that place, so I thought maybe I would re-visit it.  This should be fun and hopefully therapeutic, but probably not.

REASON'S WHY LAWSON CAN SUCK IT

• I moved there from Excelsior Springs (bigger hell-hole), partially through kindergarten.  My first memorable experience is memorable because my mother tells me and everyone else the story constantly... apparently in Kindergarten and First Grade I was insistent on wearing dresses but I was a "tom-boy".  Not a good combination when I would hang upside down on the monkey bars every day and they would call my mom, every day and tell her to bring me panties.  Yeah, I didn't wear underwear.  Big deal.  After a while my mom stopped letting me wear dresses or skirts to school so I just started sneaking them in my backpack and changing when I got to school.  I was a crafty kiddo.  A crafty kiddo without underwear.  Lawson can "suck it" because most students in grades around me probably saw my cooter.
• In third grade I decided that Halloween was as good a time as any to take my step-dad's smut magazine full of perverted Adult costumes for my favorite holiday.  My teacher did not think it was such a good idea and after the school program I got to tell my mom what I did.  I didn't see anything wrong with it.  Lawson can "suck it" because the other day I ran into my old principal while my best friend's mom was in the hospital and I hoped and prayed she didn't remember me and the pecker costumes.
• It starts going down hill from third grade.  I will jump to 7th grade.  That was a hell of a year.  I had the joy of sharing the volleyball MVP award with my best friend, Tabitha and I had it captured forever with a photo of me with short poodle hair.  My worst hair year, yet.  7th had a lot going on and I got to know what bullies are.  I'm not going to name names because those pieces of crap know who they are... but I had the joy of dealing with two sisters who were bitches and their mom drove the school bus.  These two thought they were above the rules and totally cool.  I dreaded getting on the bus every day because I knew that they would do or say something terrible.  My most memorable experiences of them were when they tied my shoelaces together while I sat on the seat in front of them.  When I went to get off the bus, I tripped and fell and smashed my face on the floor.  After numerous problems their mom finally punished them when they painted my new shoes with nail polish.  She painted them with nail polish.  The kids on the bus were completely terrible and made fun of everything about me.
• 8th grade was even worse.  By now the kids were a hell of a lot meaner and more sinister in their thinking.  My 8th and 9th grade year people from Lawson and fellow class mates burned my house on three separate occasions, with the last making me lose everything I owned.  
• Another time they took two of my stallions (I raised and showed horses) and locked them together in an 8x10 stall and let the horses proceed to try and kill each other.  That resulted in thousands in vet bills and a very expensive horse that eventually died. 
•  Then there were the gun shots that would go off in my pasture in the middle of the night and I would wonder what thing of mine they were shooting.
•   Once, someone killed one of my puppies and put it under my car so I would think I ran over it.  It was obvious that someone had killed it and it sat there for a long time. 
•  Another one of my dog's got shot in the face.  They blew the entire side of her face off and blew out all of her teeth.  She managed to crawl to the front porch where I found her and that resulted in thousands more in vet bills from where her face was reconstructed and they did graphs from parts of her body to repair and make her a partial face.  
• My favorite dog Spot was poisoned with Anti-Freeze.  I found him frozen to the ground one winter morning.  Many other dogs of mine met the same fate through the years.
• And one of the worst memories, even worse than the fires, was when I was driving to school and I saw one of  my dogs bodies in the weeds next to the old barn by the road.  I stopped because I knew something was wrong and when I walked up to her, she was decapitated and her head was missing.  When I got home from school her head was on my doorstep.  I will never get over this, ever.  Of everything that has ever happened to me, this was one of the worst.  I still have dreams where I call for her and she never comes.
• On one of my last occasions in that terrible place, I was driving my boyfriend and a few of his friends back to my house for a camp fire.  While we were in town someone warned me that people were out looking for us because they had a beef with one of the people in my truck.  The "beef" was forced into the open when I turned on the gravel road to my house and was immediately boxed in by about 10-15 guys from Lawson.  They had baseball bats and crowbars and proceeded to begin smashing my mom's truck.  After busting out all the lights, tail lights and the windshield, they moved on to one of my friends that was in the back of the truck and started hitting him in the head with their baseball bat's.

Many more terrible things happened in that place and I never want to go back.  Last year I drove to Lawson for a softball game to fill a spot on her team.  She always gives me shit because I never go see her and I always make excuses why I can't go there.  I hope by this blog she will see how so many people there were to me and why I can't go back without my stomach in my throat and tears staining my cheeks.

I guess even more than that, I want people that read this to realize what kind of person I am.  They tormented and ridiculed me and those were just a few things I could think of off the top of my head.  They made themselves and their torment a part of my every day life for eternity.  And while it's so hard for me to remember how I felt then, I do know how I feel now.  I feel pity for them.  Maybe I wasn't the prettiest or the smartest, maybe I lived in a trashy house with 2 people that were known in town for not paying their bills, maybe we had fifteen million animals because I always drug every stray home, maybe sometimes I smelled because my mom couldn't keep house and maybe I was a terrible liar just trying to get someone to accept me.  Or maybe I was a human that deserved better treatment then I got.  I was always and will still remain, the first to give a second chance, the first to forgive but the last to forget.  I will remember the horrible things you do to me and the times when you break my heart and damage my soul.  But most of all, I will remember that I am not you and I never want to be anything like you.  I will accept your Myspace or Facebook friend request and I will post a blog for you to see, to remind you of what you made me become.  While you thought I was a weak little freak, I was strong.  Far stronger than you.  And you gave me greater strength than I could have ever obtained on my own.  Thank you all for showing me that I can conquer anything that comes my way, no matter how difficult it seems at the time.  And in the end, I know I will succeed because you failed at being a human being and you can "suck it".

For all of you who have ever had to deal with the harassment, the name calling and the abuse.  I stand with you and I apologize for all the assholes out there from your "hometown" and I remind you of the saying that "Home is where the heart is".  If your heart is in a good place, so is your home.  Remember that always.  Your home is strong and can withstand anything with some maintenance and some stability.  Maintain your composure and take a stand.

Stereotypical Nonsense Sightings!

Stereotypical Asian Necessity

Konnichiwa!  It's Friday night and I just had the joy of making the "Payday Wal-Mart Run".  It's like a white- trash holiday every other week.  For only two nights a month, I get to join the crowd that makes up People Of Wal-Mart.  I get to let my mullet down, find my shortest shirt that shows a hint of nipple and saggy breasts, put on my tightest stretch pants that make my crotch look like a moose-knuckle and go stick some crap in my buggy that I don't have money for.  Yee haw!


So on this fine cool evening, I manage to make my trip to Wally World just in time to see everyone else in Missouri.  Liberty Wal-Mart's parking lot is like the game Mouse Trap.  Around every corner you risk falling in a hole or getting stuck in a trap.  While most of you already know that Wal-Mart is the trap and not the cheese, I must point out that this particular store has decided it would be fun to see a redneck in a 4x4 have to back most of the length of the lot when he realizes that there is a random chain link fence and no place to turn around.  And of course, I am stuck behind said idiot and there is another idiot behind me that does not understand what those bright white lights are on the back of my car.  I sit for what feels like an eternity while the redneck is growing impatient and just starts backing up anyway, I guess thinking he can just Monster Truck Jam his way over my G6.  Lightbulb flickers on in the mind of driver #3 of the gang bang and he starts to back that ass up.  Finally.


I hate mass chain stores, despise of them.  I'm in a hurry and there are fifty million people walking like constipated turtles (which I believe would walk very slowly) and there are about 10 million that are unqualified scooter operators.  I want to jump on the handicapped's lap and tell them to drive me around because I'm going to have to wait on them anyway.  Yes, I am sure I offended you.  Let me rephrase that last statement.  I want to jump on the chubby people that can't get their cankles and thighs moving in the same direction for fear of the great Missouri forest fire.  I want to jump on the people that do not have a Hover-round license to drive.  So, due to the extreme scooter traffic in the bunion and foot fungus aisle, it took another 5 minutes to get vitamins.


The clearance aisle is the Blue Light special of Wal-Mart.  It's where they stick all the stuff that no one wants. I will refer to it as the Island of Misfit Toys.  The Island cost me ten minutes while I was lodged between an old lady doing some placemat shopping and Atilla the Hun who has her cart turned sideways as she scurries through the shelves like a rat running from a cat.  Atilla is opening every bottle of lotion and smelling it but I can't for the life of me understand why.  Next to Atilla was what I can only describe to you as a Wookie.  The Wookie starts smelling the lotions and texting on her Tracfone so I started freaking out and feeling trapped and started backing over the old bag behind me.  I did apologize.  Sorta.  Sorry Grandma.


While searching for something in the garden aisle, I found a misplaced clearance aisle full of back-to-school items and it was empty except for one person!  Of course, I got to see all those nice dividers that I've had nightmares about since purchasing all fifty of them at $5 a piece.  Look, now they are $1!  Back to school is all a huge conspiracy to piss me off.  I spent another five minutes trying to find Paris and Bristol a notebook to draw in because I found Levi an MU one and when being a mom you always have to be fair.  What crap.  Being an only child is where it's at.  If I could push two of my kids back in long enough to only buy something for one of them, I would totally do it.  I'm that cheap.  Okay, not that cheap, just that broke.  While in that area I did get to see a bald woman with superhuman strength and reflexes like a ninja catch a box of notebooks that fell from the top shelf, all while she was holding a handful of notebooks.  If that were me, I would have let them fall on my head and I would have made sure I sustained a spinal cord injury. I'm that cheap and just that broke.


Over an hour in to my shopping trip I finally make it to the checkout.  I jumped into the one line that had one person ahead of me and an empty cart with about twenty items left on the conveyor.  I eagerly started loading my treasures and waiting my turn.  Waiting.  Still waiting.  Trying to be patient.  Trying not to make a scene.  Losing patience.  I managed to find the one Asian on food stamps, government checks and who obviously has a subscription to a coupon group online. Oh, and she has to separate things because she only has so much on the checks and on her cards.  On her 2nd group of purchases I hear the cashier calling out totals after every ring up and I am thinking to myself, "Oh shit."  The cashier tells her, you are getting closer.... closer... you're almost there... it's running down your face, I'm done.  Hurry up!  "You are at $51.35."  "Oh no!  What can I do?  Can you take some oranges out of that bag that you just rang up?"  So, the cashier opens the plastic bag and starts taking out oranges and re-weighing the bag.  She gets under $50 and then Asian girl finds more money in her white Hello Kitty wallet.  Yes, Hello Kitty.  Stereotype, I know.  That's why the blog is named what it is.  Wow!  Asian girl that is probably forty but looks twelve then locates more COUPONS!  The total changes and so the conveyor begins a slow crawl as the cashier starts ringing up more purchases.  "Oh, that costs too much, take it out."  As we are nearing the end there is a bag of limes left and she's near $50 again.  The cashier tells her that she's over and the Asian tells her to start taking out the limes until she is back under $50.  I must say that this cashier was possibly the most considerate person ever.  If I were checking her out, I would have punched her in the face and maybe knocked one of her kids out of the shopping cart, just for fun.  Asian girl is finally done and the cashier is completely exhausted and leaves!  The girl tucks her Hello Kitty wallet back into her knock-off D&G purse and walks away in her Juicy sweatpants.

I called Larry and by this time it's 8:00 and I was responsible for dinner and was still not home.  I decided to run through Steak and Shake and grab food, like I was supposed to an hour or more ago.  The place is crazy and there is a line to the street and I sat there for 5 minutes.  Another line starts forming around the side of the building and the person first in that line is trying to creep in front of me in their Toyota.  I pull forward to run a block, basically on top of  the bumper of the SUV in front of me.  I order my food, the drive through gets it wrong twice, they forget the onion rings,  I remind them, they are out of Portabella for the burgers, I order something else and pull forward trying to resign to the fact that I am spending $30 on paper thin hamburgers to feed my family.  I'm still sitting in the line, almost to the window to pay when the Toyota barrels around the corner and almost hits me.  I'm pissed and I look back in my side mirror and what do I see?  I see what may possibly be black hair on a child in the drivers seat of that tan Toyota.  I look closer and I see a white Hello Kitty wallet attached to the frail hand hanging out the window.  Asian girl is behind me in line!  While I wanted to stop and check my food over and over and take a bite of it and hand it back and say it's wrong, I didn't do it.  I did remind the guy about the onion rings and I got my order and pulled forward.  Two seconds later I notice that there are 5 deals of fries and no onion rings.  It's just another great night on the "Payday Wal-Mart Run".

Tears Don't Make You Feel Better, They Give You Sinus Problems.

I've shed a lot of tears the past few days and you know what?  It's complete and total bullshit when someone tells you that you should cry because it will make you feel better.  It doesn't.  It makes you feel worse.  You realize that you are a tit bag and then you cry more because you are being so ridiculous.  Then when you cry more over being so ridiculous you try to stop crying but you can't because you are choking back sobs.  Minutes later, you have the worst sinus pressure ever.  Crying is so not worth it.  From now on when I am sad, I'm just going to kick someone.

Yesterday, I received a call from my doctor with results from an ultrasound that was done.  They told me that I had Adenomyosis and Endometriosis, only the later being something I had ever heard of.  Leave it to me to catch some damn thing I don't know.  The doctor scheduled me an appointment to see a specialist and explained to me that I would more than likely have to have a complete hysterectomy.  Lovely.  Although I have popped kids out of my vagina like Mexicans come out of a Pinto, I really wanted to have a child (or at least the ability to reproduce one).  I'm in a relationship with a man that has no children and after being around mine, may never want any... but you never know.  I would like to keep his options open though.  The news crushed and frustrated me.  Back in 2007 I had a laparoscopy done because for years I had been told I had Endometriosis and it was time to know for sure.  After surgery the doctor showed pictures to Larry and pointed out white masses on my uterus and explained that it was scar tissue, more than likely from a severe infection.  He then listed a few things that I should be tested for, one being Interstitial Cystitis and then another being something Larry can't remember but said it could only be identified after death (so it doesn't matter).  So, I moved on to another doctor and then another.

 After numerous trips to doctors I finally gave up and thought it was all in my head, fabrications of a deranged mind.  My family doctor told me to go see a Uro-Gynecologist that was amazing at finding out what problems people had, so of course I went.  In late May of 2007 I underwent a cytoscopy with hydrodistention.  Not a pleasant thing.  They stick a tube in your crotch and pump you full of as much liquid as your bladder can hold without exploding.  Besides having to sit in something that looked like an electric chair and feeling like I was going to piss on the floor, I then had the wonderful experience of a camera being inserted in my pee-hole.  I was going to get to watch myself piss on the doctor ON CAMERA!  Sweet!  Long story short, the nice little video showed the inside of my bladder was a paper-thin membrane with pin-point hemorrhages.  I got the official diagnosis of Interstitial Cystitis, a painful disease with no cure.  Lovely!  The first few months after diagnosis was hell.  The doctor claimed my case was a severe one and recommended a lot of medication and physical therapy.  Yes, physical therapy for my kooch.  I referred to them as "koochie calisthenics" .  Three days I week I would drive to St. Luke's Physical Therapy and let them massage my cooter and do "shock therapy" on it.  If you think your life is bad, try taking your crotch to P.T., then call me.  I had an $80 a day co-pay for someone to rub my nub when I am sure I could have found someone to do it for free.

Jump 3 years forward and NUMEROUS trips to the hospital, MRI's, CT Scans, X-Rays, Ultrasounds, infections, blood tests, various doctors and then... Endometreosis raises it's bastard head again.  I don't know how I'm going to cope with this.  People tell me that I am the strongest person they know, while sometimes I think I'm the weakest because I should have "offed" myself by now.  My life has been one shit trap after another.  All I can do at this point is hold on to every shred of sanity and hope that I have left and clutch onto the things that I have been blessed with.  While I lost out in the "health" department, I do have love with a man I could never deserve, I do have three beautiful and talented children with the most wonderful hearts, I do have a best friend that I know will hold my hand through it all and I do have other great people that have already dealt with how much of a bitch I am already.  I've been through worse and I've come out on the other side.  It's just that this time I will possibly be walking down the empty tunnel that was once where my reproductive organs were stored.  I'm going to have to make a trip to Cirilla's.  Do you know if they have fake wieners that have lawnmower motors?  It's going to take a lot more to make momma happy when she has a cavernous hole.