The House of Flying Monkeys

… but they seemed so normal…

Archive for the ‘Brutally Honest Monday’

Brutally Honest Monday – Freeloaders!!!!!

Dear Stupid Birds,

No, despite your ideas to the contrary, our mailbox is not a very good spot for you to build your nest. To be clear, it wasn’t last year either, or the year before that. Further, when there are multiple copies of Vanity Fair et al landing on your nest please know that you have no legal recourse for damages or injury. You have been warned. The lid is closed and if you re-open and restart construction it will be considered trespassing.

As a personal aside, you two birds really need to start taking some responsibility for yourselves, perhaps make better choices, and build your nest high up in one of the many trees available for this purpose – just like all the other self-respecting birds in our neighborhood. Please be aware, I am not your source of support and I do not make a habit of providing housing for individuals who do not consider the consequences of their actions and accept their role in ensuring survival of their species/family. I am very much compassionate for birds who have disaster befall themselves through accident or unforeseen disaster but your poor planning does not create my issue to resolve.

Thank you for your cooperation.

The Weiners

Brutally Honest Monday- The Sciency Stuff!

In light of millions of tweets and posts and comments online about the weather these days, sorry but y’all need to excuse me while I vent. Yeah, I do that here occasionally, because I can-can-can! After all, it’s my real estate.


And on that note:

No, brilliant people everywhere, having cold weather in January doesn’t debunk all settled science about Global Warming. And yes, it is settled science, despite the use of the word theory. To quote a popular movie, “I do not think that word means what you think it means.” Science as a field regards everything, including Gravity, to be a theory that can (at least in theory) be disproved. Climate science is real. Sorry. And on that note, please be aware that your comments regarding your disbelief in that settled science do not in fact add to the debate but instead prove all available theories about you and your intelligence (or lack thereof). Further, please know that your disbelief in settled science (evolution & global warming) when coupled with your fervent belief in magical fairy tales (The Bible) makes you more than a bit amusing to educated people around the globe. Please entertain all of us just a bit more as you explain how the Bible is correct in it’s written entirety even though none of the languages used were still spoken at the time of the first translations and how the Earth is only 6000 years old and all of those fossils are fakes.

Go on… I’m waiting…

Er, yeah. That’s what I thought.

I’ll leave you with this…


Okay, rant’s over, thank you for your attention. Have a nice day!

Doug McCaughan, Robert Weiner liked this post



Yeah, this. Because then there’s this.


Tracy Towle, Kim Pate liked this post

New Beginnings…

Do you ever run out of them?  I hope not… really, truly hope not.  Because I’ve packed a healthy lunch, made a Green Monster Smoothie, and I’m ready for today.


Because it’s a Monday and Monday’s suck where I work.  Really suck.  Like everyone all around the world spends all weekend working on creating mayhem and trying to come up with the worst scenarios possible that we have to resolve in 8 hours.  Or 10.  Or 14 – like last Monday.


Every Monday I update my resume just a bit more, because I hate it so much.  But every Thursday I think “this isn’t that bad” and it isn’t.  Work as schizophrenia… or work is schizophrenia.  One or the other.  Who can say? But today it starts again.  Today is the first day of the rest of my week.  Today is what I have.  Today.  Make it count?  Make it worth it?  Okay… maybe not… let’s just go with survival.

I’ll settle for that.


Just a little…

sad, melancholy, whatever… you know what I mean.  Well, okay, maybe not.  So I’ll explain.

I bought my last school supplies today.

I know, I know… the “white people problems” I come up with to kvetch about.  Right?  Yeah, right.  But still, this is the last semester.  The last time I have to pick out folders.  The last time I have to prepare to go back to class for this go-round.

The end.

And it’s really hard to look backward and figure out where the two years have gone.  This time in 2010 I hadn’t even reapplied to start back.  I wasn’t even thinking about it.  It wasn’t even on my radar.  I didn’t make the decision until August 2010, the day I applied, and the day I told Bob I was doing this.

Yeah… he got no notice either.  I’m communicative like that.  You’ve been warned.

But anyway, yeah, I came home in early August, with the application complete and the acceptance already done, and I announced that I was going back to school.  And now I’m one degree done and the second nearly in the bag.


No, make that double wow.  Or triple.  And add in a chorus of “time flies…” because it really does.  And who knows where two more years will take us.  How our lives will look then.

Who knows?

If you had told me ten years ago that I would be here, in Lakeland, married to someone else, with children, and living this life… well, first I wouldn’t have believed you.  And second, there’s likely quite a bit I would have done differently.  Or not.

Probably not.

But for now, when I look backward, I see so many changes, so much that is gone, and so much that is new.  I don’t even recognize this life.  Even though I love it.  Even though it’s mine.  Even though I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

I really wouldn’t.

Without this life I would not be who I am today.  I would not be so different.  I like me now.  Better than I liked me then.  Really.  I do.  And I think everyone who has left me would like me today as well.  More comfortable.  More secure.

Me, only more me than I was before.

But today, it’s folders and notebooks and pencils, for the last time for this adventure, and I’m just a little sad.  But I’m truly more curious…

What’s next?




I missed my Mom.  Just like I did yesterday, and the day before.

And once again I realized that this new reality will not change.  This is the rest of my life.

And tonight I cried.


But tonight I also thought about one of the life lessons that Mom hammered into me all of my life. Because she did.  Mom was a big one on lessons.  Her favorite was this:

I cried because I had no shoes and then I saw a man who had no feet.

And tonight, although I might be crying because I have no shoes (so to speak), there are most definitely people around me who have no feet (both figuratively and literally).  But, of course, Mom met with abject failure when she first tried to teach me that lesson when I was a selfish and self-absorbed teen… back when the idea of pitying anybody was beyond my nature or ability.

Today, I’m sure that wherever she is she’s plenty pleased to know that she succeeded.

Thanks Mom.

I miss you.

A lot.

I Wish…

I could just call my Mom. Just once more. Just to say hi. And to tell her how much I still need her.

I do. So very much.

There seems to be no break in this hurt. No chance to get out of the pressure cooker and just try to forget. Nobody is giving me that. I’m supposed to “stay strong”.

I’m not strong. I’m not even sleeping at a Holiday Inn Express every night so I can’t fake it very well. I’m sorry, but I’m just not.

I’m just human. A girl. Scared. Hurt. And I really want my Mom. I need her. She was my entire emotional support system. I have trouble being as real as I was with her with anybody else.


Real, right now, is hurt. Tears I cry alone. Because I have to be strong. Because I have to stand up.


I just wish she would call. Would tell me that it’s going to be okay. Even if it isn’t.

I’m not sure.

I just know I hurt. And she is the one person who could always change that. Make it all better.

A cold washcloth on my forehead when I had a fever. A hug and a stern talking to when I came home from school crying because once again I had been bullied for being different. A popsicle when my throat was sore.

She was all those things and more. And now she’s not. Nobody will ever do those things for me again. Nobody.

I’m the adult now. And I have to be strong. For everybody. But I’m not.

I’m still hurting, but now I have to fix it myself.

PS I’m not sure how to do that. I just know I hurt. And it feels awfully bad when I think about it. So I’m trying to be strong. I’m trying not to think about it.

It hurts.


And it probably always will.

Hard Decisions… I can haz?

And I can make too.  But for the record, we’re not talking thin vs. thick crust.  Although thin always wins out, always.  And in boxers vs briefs, after a whole first marriage of boxers now the second time around it’s briefs FTW.  Likewise, in the battle over paper vs. plastic, it’s plastic, although I’d feel less guilt if I went with paper but those plastic bags get recycled for several lifetimes so maybe that balances out?  And in the most important decision – Godzilla vs. Mothra – everybody with two braincells knows it’s Godzilla.  Because, really, what other choice is there?  It has to be Giant Radioactive Lizard FTW!!!  But these aren’t the decisions I’m making.  Sadly enough.  Although I wish so much they were.

So. Much.

No, this decision is much harder.  With an additional six month commitment attached.  And I’m struggling.  Boy am I struggling.  Like a fat kid in the Kitchen, with a slice of cake on one side, and a pile of vegetables on the other.  And although that might not seem like a tough decision, the missing fact is that the fat kid’s Mom told him right before she left that she raised him to make good decisions… oh, and that the cake might or might not have been accidentally sprayed with bug spray.

Just like that.

But the decision for me isn’t cake.  Or vegetables.  Or boxers.  Or briefs.  It’s far harder.  It’s school.  You see I am currently 30 hours away from Graduation.  30 hours.  10 classes.  And the original plan was for me to finish in two semesters, Summer and Fall, going full-out 15 hours each.  Ambitious? Yes.  Aggressive?  Yes.  Doable?  Yes… that is if having a life wasn’t a real priority, and it’s not really so yes, it was doable.


Until last week.  Until my world fell apart.  Until the other reason why I embarked on this crazy midlife education adventure left me for good.


And now I’m really struggling with focus and I’m really worrying about the idea of 15 hours of classes.  I’m no longer feeling invincible.  I’m feeling very human.  And I’m feeling stuck in a decision I didn’t want to make.  You see, I know the vegetables are best for me.  And I know I should eat them fast, get it over with, and move forward.  But I don’t know whether I can.

I just don’t know.

So right now I’m going to eat the vegetables, not the cake, but I’m going to eat them slower.  Stretch them out.  And that makes me hate vegetables even worse than before.  Have you ever eaten the same Rutabaga – one bite at a time – over the space of a year?


I just want the vegetables gone.  That’s what’s in my head and my heart.  I just want this school thing to end.  Give me the paper, tell me I did good, then let’s forget I was ever here.  That’s what I’m feeling.  But I’m also pragmatic enough to think that if I start the original plan and then fall apart I’ll have to retake those classes that I bombed in.  And my GPA is sacred… I’ve worked so hard to repair it… I will be eaten up with teh failures if I don’t finish with a 3.5.  Go ahead, laugh at me, but I am literally having nightmares at the thought of getting a C.


So with that thought looming in my head, I’m likely going to scale back and slow down a little bit this summer.  In order to allow myself to deal with what has happened.  Because if I don’t it will not turn out well.  Not well at all.  I need time.  Time is my best friend.  But I have to be patient enough to allow time to pass.

Newsflash: I am not a patient person.

And that slow down means that I’ll be adding on a full Semester in the Spring.  And I won’t graduate until May, 2013.  Can I just say that here, honestly, that I really don’t want that.  But I don’t see many choices.

I need choices.

But I don’t see them.  I see this.  Loss.  Failure.  Missing her all of the time.  Psst… these are not good choices.  These are far worse than those vegetables.  These are the cake.  Frosted with buttercream and the possible hint of DDT.  Oh so attractive on the outside.  But it will kill you.


So please hold my hand as I make this decision.  Because there’s no way to go backward once it’s made.  I hope I choose correctly.  But I’ve learned in the last ten days that there are no sure bets.  No way other than the passage of time to know you’re doing the right thing.  It’s all guesswork.  All part of a celestial game of Darts, where you’re blindfolded and you pitch the dart, but only after you’ve been spun around about a million times.  All you can do is hope for the best.

I’m hoping… as I make this decision.

I hope.


Mary Jane Russell Mcghee liked this post

Back on that same damned Horse!

Because, after all, what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger… right?  Right?

Cough, cough, or cray-zay-zay, cough, snort.

Yeah, that’s what I thought too.

But, yeah, today marks the beginning of a new semester, which I started on 5 hours of sleep.  The beginning of my “live better in ’12” resolution, which I began by oversleeping and putting treadmill time off until this evening.

Not a roaring start.

But I’m also resolving to do better tomorrow.  We’ll see how that works out.  Because so far today appears to be a Monday.  Yay.

But, there is the refrigerator, stocked with healthy food from grocerying last night.  And I threw away the last of the Chex Mix last night… over half a bag.  This morning my Green Monster Smoothie (made with Spinach for a change) is yummy.  And there’s a box of Blueberries calling my name in the office right now.  So, at this point I’m calling a draw.

Some good, some bad – isn’t that the sign of a well-balanced life?

Oh, and I also threw away half of a Heath Bar that I found in the car, and I didn’t get coffee this morning either.

Sleepy doesn’t begin to tell the story.

But if good intentions do indeed pave the road to Hell then I might be close to finishing 6 wide lanes with no tolls and lots of rest stops.

Need a ride?

Yeah, I thought so.

Anyway, here’s to new beginnings.  Here’s to not doing my two ten page term papers on the same long night, right before they’re due.  Here’s to having a better plan.  For today, and tomorrow.

Here’s to me.


Now, can I take a nap?

…as big as a Buick!!!!

As in “there’s a very large Rodent living at Casa de Weiner”.  As in, “no, I’m not kidding”.  See also “we have a new pet”.


And now, knowing how big this thing is, I’m thinking that Little Dog isn’t as mental as we previously thought.  Because we thought she was getting into fights with her blanket during the night but now I’m wondering whether she was seeing our other Roommate… or perhaps it tried to steal her covers.


And before you suggest it, I bought traps.  Those big ones, with lots of glue, and put them right beside the Chupacabra Door under the Dishwasher.  And you would not believe the grief I got from Bob over that.  He said it was like something out of the Holocaust.  He also got all sad when I put said trap down last night, and basted it liberally with Ketchup… because we hear rodents like that.

And then, after a pretty restful 5 hours of sleep, there was this morning, at 4am, when I found the trap, with quite a bit of fur in it, some extra whiskers laying on the floor, a couple of ketchupy footprintsl… and nothing else.

The damned thing is big enough to get free from the glue trap.

And when we saw the size of his feet… ohholyshiz!!!!!!!And that’s when Bob started channeling his inner murderer too.  He said that we don’t have a rodent issue.  No, according to him, something that big getting into your house qualifies as a home invasion.

Complete with orders to “shoot on sight”, you know, because Shiz is getting’ serious, yo?

And to my friend who told me that this wasn’t Mickey Mouse in my house… sorry but you might be wrong.  From the size of his foot it could indeed be Mickey… but I’m damned certain that our house is not going to be “the happiest place on earth” for him.  Because we found “evidence” behind our couch yesterday that’s making us think he might be living in that vicinity.

OHMAHGAH!!! He’s everywhere!!!!!

So today I’m sleepy, squidged out, and studying all the rodent literature I can find to determine the best possible way to kill him.

The Rat, that is.

And after he dies, I intend to hang his ginormous carcass outside, where the other neighborhood Rats can see him, as an example of what happens to creatures that come into our house illegally.

Unless he gets us first.

For today his Door has been duct-taped up… but by tonight there may be wire and a board nailed over that hole.  After I throw poison down the hole.

Yes, I am indeed serious.  And we’re going mano a ratto…

May the best sentient creature win.  (ps, that’s me.)