The Power of Positive Drinking*

*Originally Published as “I am an Achiever” which was a thinly veiled Big Lebowski reference

ACTUALLY I wrote this over a ago and it was first published on May 17th, 2015. I did, however, add some things to the list so there are a few new/updated bits! Enjoy!

I wrote this a few weeks ago and read it at the live reading we did at the beginning of the month, but even if you came to the reading there are some extra goodies at the end of the post. Thanks for reading and I love you guys!!!

I took my son to the park the other day and, granted it was a mild Sunday afternoon of which we do not get many in April in the great Pacific Northwest, I saw 5 pregnant women there…5!!! Oh wait, it gets even more interesting from a sociological and anthropological stand-point (said no one ever…except for maybe Oliver Sacks)! Of all the pregnant women every single one was there with their already existing child/children. And of all of the families at the park that day the pregnant moms were making up nearly half of the moms! Now, I am fully aware that it is rutting season and we are coming out of winter wherein the humans hunker down and procreate, mainly to stay warm and have an excuse to shave, but this just seemed excessive to me. As I watched the the gravid parade of moms waddling slowly from one end of the playground to the other chasing after their rapidly swelling broods, I realized that two of the five already had four children to their names!!!! That means each of those two women were currently gestating a fifth child!!!!

I can’t be the only one who becomes immediately suspicious of anyone who voluntarily has, just an unreasonable shit ton of kids, right (I say voluntarily because I am just assuming that since I saw these ladies at the park neither of them has been chained up in a basement being forcibly and repeatedly impregnated by their captors, but stranger things have happened, GO CLEVELAND)? I mean there are only a few reasons why anyone has that many kids; 1) to repopulate the planet with ready-made, home-schooled evangelical cult members 2) their religious beliefs prohibit the use of birth control (see also reason 1) and 3) sheer stupidity (see also reasons 1 and 2). All this reproduction just seemed excessive to me. I mean these ladies were clearly trying to compensate for something because they were totally overachieving in the baby-making department; they were reproductive overachievers!!!

In the face of all this extravagantly superfluous and even a little show-offy propagation of the human species I started to feel a little bit like a reproductive underachiever with my one measly kid. I will allow that I do have a pretty top notch baby (yes, I realize that he is four and no longer a baby but he will ALWAYS be my baby so shut up about it, okay!), with whom I am desperately in love. But every now and then, as I imagine all mothers do, I get sort of nostalgic for the days when he was a tiny little thing who smelled amazing and never ran away from me in the parking lot of Target. Then I quickly remember what it was like breastfeeding or staying up all night or cleaning feces off his neck and I am quickly ripped out of the land of newborn nostalgia and firmly back on earth where the worst of our problems consist of the DVR always missing the last two minutes of “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” no matter how many times I try to record it from Sprout.

Besides I may be a reproductive underachiever but there are plenty of things at which I totally overachieve! Here is a bulleted list of those things in no particular order:

  • examining my pores in the mirror for hours at a time (okay, half hours at a time, but still)
  • anxiety
  • turning anxiety into chin acne
  • binge watching “Daredevil” on Neflix (and can I just say I’m on episode 10 already and he still doesn’t have a goddamn costume! WTF)
  • oral (full stop) hygiene
  • finding spare change in the car seats while waiting in line at the drive-through for a Blizzard
  • eating an entire pound of grapes in one sitting
  • WINE!
  • sleeping in until 10 o’clock
  • eyeliner
  • plucking my chin hairs
  • angrily screaming “SUCK MY DICK!” at street harassers
  • makeup in general
  • thrift store shopping
  • cussing people out while driving
  • Simpson’s trivia
  • being continually blown away by the size of my son’s poop
  • Boggle
  • neuroses
  • remembering all the names of the characters from the “Transformers” cartoons
  • “Big Lebowski” quotes
  • moping
  • always having a corkscrew
  • laughing at my own jokes
  • stick shift (also not a dirty metaphor)
  • getting kicked in the tits while trying to put shoes on a shrieking four year old
  • scalloped potatoes (I seriously make awesome scalloped potatoes)
  • sarcasm
  • inevitably being that person in the crowded bar who is saying something embarrassing or wildly inappropriate when the music suddenly dies down
  • forgetting to put tampons in my purse
  • scheme hatchery
  • “forgetting” to pay for the items I put on the bottom of the cart (and this is just a karmic reach-around to which I am not looking forward)
  • whiskey
  • insomnia
  • always picking the line at the grocery store that will take the longest no matter how few people are in front of you.
  • reciting the plots of all the episodes of “Ultimate Spiderman” when called upon to explain what the fuck my son is talking about and why he is trying to lock you into some sort of mental combat wherein he is the “Grandmaster” and you are the “Collector” and you each have to pick a team of heroes or villains to battle for the fate of New York City,  and how you should ALWAYS pick Kraven the Hunter because Kraven the Hunter is tits, but I mean, c’mon people, this is day one shit.

I could go on, but I don’t want to toot my own horn. But you see, there are plenty of things I do well, in addition to making fabulous, if not a little free with the nudity, babies! These are the things I have to tell myself in order to sleep at night when wading through the long list of all my inadequacies…also, whiskey helps a lot with that too.

P.S. Yes, I am perfectly aware that there are people with tons of kids who are NOT actually religious fanatics….as I had to point out to a friend of mine who busted my balls the first time this was published. But if I never blew anything out of proportion, never made broad, sweeping generalizations, and avoided hyperbole and sarcasm at all times, this probably wouldn’t be a very fun blog to read, now would it? So you can refrain from emailing me to tell me about all the perfectly normal atheists you know who just happen to have 7 kids because I already know that this is a thing that happens in real life, thank you. XOXO

Here is your Owl, Now Please Oversee my Nuptials

As some of you may know (if you’re my mom perhaps) I am planning a wedding. It is a small wedding but a wedding nonetheless. Did I mention that it’s my wedding? It is. Someone has not only actually agreed to marry me but it was HIS idea. I mean, he totally asked and everything! Weird, right? In any case, he has found that my special brand of being annoying is the kind of annoying he wants to tolerate for the rest of forever so a wedding must be planned to celebrate our mutual tolerance of one another’s annoying-ness ….and the fact that we love each other….and to make my mother happy.

As a graphic designer (which I still think is kind of a silly thing to call myself…we should go with “as a person who likes to make pretty pictures and sometimes silly pictures of otters and barbarian teddy bears and extra fancy hamsters”) I was really excited about making the invitations. And I got them back last Thursday and I was super pleased. The next step was collecting everyone’s addresses.

I messaged my friend Jon to get his address and the conversation that we had about how OUT OF FUCKING HAND wedding invitations had gotten was kind of funny:

Me:
Need your address…for I plan to stalk you….or send you a wedding invitation. One of those.
Jon:
B) I thought you already got married. Life is gonna suck if I start having FB hallucinations.
A) was supposed to be “congratulations” but, thumbs.
Congratulations!
Me:
Thanks, no…I got engaged about a year ago. Marrying comes next.
Jon:
C?D?) [ADDRESS REDACTED]
Conformist.
Me:
I deserve that.
Jon:
Is there a date what to save?
Me:
June 25th, I chose not to send save the date cards and am just sending you an invitation. Because I did not need one MORE thing to do.
Jon:
Also, it is the goddam 21st century. You can use the internets.
People may call it lazy, I call it saving the fucking planet.
Me:
There are certain protocols that I (read my mother) will not see shirked.
Jon:
A friend got married a few years ago & there was a fucking sheaf of paper & also glossy photos involved. It hurt me so to have to recycle all that.
Understood.
Me:
Yeah, people’s invitations are totally out of control. They send them in boxes and shit! Some have live butterflies in them that fly out when you open the aforementioned box.
Frankly, I wouldn’t really want a box of mostly dead butterflies and their poop. 
Jon:
Oh! And ribbons!
Me:
SO MANY FUCKING RIBBONS!!!!
Jon:
You should tie ribbons on the necks of condors & ship them with every invite.
Do not forget to punch holes in the lids.
Me:
So you would go with condors? Because I had planned on doves but I see your point….
Jon:
Compromise= barn owls. The recipients can use them for pest control.
Me:
BRILLIANT!
Jon:
We have solved wedding invites!
Me:
And controlling pests!
Jon:
The world really should thank us by sending money.
Me:
I wouldn’t say “no” to a Nobel prize.
Jon:
You have my permission to blog about this. I will be your silent (read 50%) partner.
Me:
Noted.
Jon:
This was probably the most productive meeting I never attended.
Me:
You’re welcome!
I, on the other hand, opted out of all that craziness. There’s enough outlandish shit on which we are expected to spend money where weddings are concerned. I was not about to spring for the postage to send people an invitation that had to be housed in a goddamn box that plays music upon their opening it and also contains a legit, goddamn bird’s nest!
wedding invitation craziness

Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t like anyone enough to want to make them feel this important. 

My invitations were a very simple, 5 by 7, single-sided card with instructions to RSVP via email or phone call. I was determined NOT to have to pay more than 47 cents per envelope to send those bitches. Here’s a copy because I think they’re pretty!

invitation_redacted

I left out the address, because I know the types of folks who hang around here and I don’t want you miscreants crashing my wedding. Also, I try to avoid being embroiled in assassination plots whenever possible. And yes, I am JUST DELUSIONAL ENOUGH to consider my murder, which will probably be the result of the ill-timed use of sarcasm on my part, an assassination! I am not going to say that I have never wondered exactly how important one must be in order for their murder to be considered an assassination but I feel that I, somehow or another, pass the muster. Also, refer back to previous statements about my delusions.

I did, however, include the registry information, just in case anyone is feeling generous, or drunk or both of those things.

Also, in case you’re drunk, and/or had no idea just how out of fucking hand wedding invitations had gotten, here are some pics of some ridiculous shit! Enjoy!

IT IS A GODDAMN BOARD GAME!!!! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!

It’s a Viewmaster, and the little slide wheel has pictures of the happy couple! If you legitimately think anyone cares about you enough to think that you and your fiancee deserve this much fanfare your delusions of grandeur are like, Kanye epic.

are you fucking kidding me

What the shit is this? I bet this cost more than my wedding dress!

not sure whats going on here but it looks foreboding

Does anyone else think that including a tiny noose in your wedding invitation is just a little too dark…even if it is in cyrillic?

pastel-boxed-wedding-invitation-set__full

I am so done with making people work for the information you’ve included in your wedding invitation. If I have to use a key or a decoder ring or a map to figure out to what I have been invited, you can bet your ass that I will expend no further energy on your ridiculousness and will probably boycott your wedding on general principle.

awesome-3d-decoder-wedding-invitation__full

I forgot to include special glasses in the list of shit that I want no part of. Consider them added now.

rustic-wood-wedding-save-the-date-in-mossy-box__full

Go fuck yourself.

XOXO!!!!

 

These ARE My Good Pants

OMGOMGOMG! I super hate people so much! But, if I’m being honest it’s my fault, not theirs. I should know better than to hang out in places where I will encounter the continually bewildering stupidity of humans. This is why I avoid comment sections on the the internet, Insane Clown Posse concerts, the post office or anywhere else that the rules are not universally known because no one has actually given enough of a shit to lay them out so that people can STOP looking so fucking stupid. But, sometimes you have to mail a package, sometimes you accidentally get black-out drunk and wake up in New Jersey with a bunch of Juggalos, and sometimes, not always, but sometimes you accidentally scroll too far down the page and your eyes land on the comment section of a blog you were reading….AND IT IS A GODDAMN TRAVESTY!

So, (drink) I was reading a post by brilliant blogger, Insane in the Mom Brain. I would totally bang her mind if that were a thing we could do outside of the Matrix. But it would kind of just be like I were masturbating because I am convinced we share a brain. Anyhoo, it was a post from a few years back about how it’s hard being a Mom (duh!) and sometimes it’s REALLY hard to wear pants (double duh! And how badly do I wish I had written that bit about the “low unicorn”?). When I was done reading the post and done changing my pants because I had peed them from laughing too hard (one of the many unfortunate side effects of motherhood) I scrolled down to see if there was a link to her bio and that’s when I saw them….the comments. They were just sitting there, looking all innocent but then (why, god, why?) I started to skim a few of them and for the most part they were all positive, sympathetic, and well-worded (which is highly unusual for the internet) but, of course, the one that stuck in my craw was one that said “You need to get organized and delegate” and then went on to suggest that Patti enslave her barely school-age children. Okay, it’s possible that I am exaggerating. But I do have a totally solid point to make, not only about this commenter but the ridiculous point he or she was trying to make which I will lay out in this bulleted list!

  • Read the room! This is obviously a humor blog! I would suspect that in many cases, on Patti’s blog, as well as my own, hyperbole is employed in order to get laughs. We are not idiots; we know that if we don’t want our kids in the bathroom we can just lock the door, unless we can’t because we had to take the locks off because our 4 year old kept locking himself in there and emptying the all the shampoo bottles into the toilet and then flushing it causing a gigantic tower of suds to rise out of the toilet like a fluffy, white fourth of July snake. But it’s a lot funnier to talk about how my son comes into the bathroom and says creepy things to me like “I want to watch you pee….but I am going to pretend your vagina is a penis” than to say “My son liked to follow me into the bathroom so I started to lock the door behind me and now he can’t do that anymore.” You see the difference?
  • No, not everyone can “get organized” (just like not everyone, namely you, commenter, can grasp the proper use of grammar and implementation of sentence structure)! I love it when people make it seem like everyone should be as equally capable in all things as everyone else. Telling someone like me, for instance, to “just get organized” would be tantamount to telling someone like Mozart to “just go rebuild that diesel engine”. Just because a person is an intelligent human who appears capable in many facets of life does not mean that they possess the talent or inclination towards any and ALL facets of life. I think telling some people to “just get organized” is just as feasible as walking up to another person and saying “just paint me a stunning landscape in watercolors” or “just make me some seared duck breast with a nice shallot and Gran Marnier sauce” or “just write me a symphony” or “just design me some software” or “just sew me a quilt” or “just knit me a sweater” but you get the idea. “Getting organized” is just not as easy for some as it is for others. In the meantime I will paint you a landscape and sear you a duck breast and design your new tattoo and sing you a song and and bake you delicious cookies but you can bet your ass my house will probably be a wreck while I do those things. Because while some things come very naturally to me, others do not.
  • “You have to delegate”. I understand that this person was assuming that Patti is married with a perfectly capable husband who can help out with things like laundry and fixing the locks on the bathroom door. But I am here to remind the commenter that not everyone has the luxury (I stand by that term) of living in a two-parent household. I am a single Mother. While I have a very eager and loving partner whom I adore and my son adores he is not the Father of my child. There are certain things, as a parent, you would just never ask of someone who is not the parent of your child and certainly things you would just never ask of any non-parent. That’s just basic human decency but we’re getting off track because I am aware that I am the outlier according to a person who assumes all households are made up of two equally involved and invested adults and no one ever decides that they just don’t want to be a parent anymore because heroin suddenly became MUCH more interesting than their 3 year old son….Oh shit! So that just slipped out….
  • “If your child is old enough to go to school they can do their own (and your) laundry.”
    BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Is this person for real? Do they even have kids? Have they ever met a kid? I totally get that back in the olden days as soon as a child could walk it was sent out to the barn to start milking the cows. I fully support this ideology and, trust me, if I had cattle I would be all over that shit. But it is an ideology and that is to say that it is not always based in or supported by facts or reality. Back in the olden days, when three year olds were milking cows, parents didn’t go to work. You think they dropped their kid off at Olden Days Prairie Daycare where their kids were taught how to churn butter and grind wheat and polish saddle leather? No, they were not. They grew up watching their parents do those things everyday because home WAS work. Nowadays we run back and forth, we commute, we have jobs away from our homes and our children and we are usually doing our laundry after those children are in bed, so chances are they have not watched us load the washing machine every day of their life since birth. I am all for kids helping out around the house. Shit, if mine doesn’t start learning how to vacuum sometime soon I am probably just gonna leave him on the neighbor’s doorstep in the middle of night and cross my fingers that he cannot find his way back home and/or is cute enough that they decide to keep him. At least until they realize he doesn’t do windows and then they will bring him back because they totally know it was me who left him there in the first place because even though I was wearing a hat their security cameras clearly caught someone on tape wearing a hot pink hoodie that read “I tried to be good but there were so many other options!” across the back, leaving a five year old on their doorstep and yes, I am aware of the felicitous nature of the hoodie’s slogan and how it relates to my deeds. Also, the previous statements were an example of comedic hyperbole. I don’t actually plan on abandoning my son on the neighbor’s doorstep, at least not today, while it’s still light out, but mark my words, little man, DON’T FUCKING TEST ME!
  • Not all kids who “go to school” are old enough to go to school. I have been taking my son to “school” in one form or another for nearly two years but he is still not old enough to go to kindergarten. Just because a mom says she’s “taking the kids to school” doesn’t necessarily mean that those children in question are old enough to shear sheep or do your taxes. I probably would not trust my own son with a pair of industrial grooming shears or my W-2 for at least another year or so.

It would be awesome if people thought before they opened their big, stupid, mouths but that’s sort of like asking the magic genie of the lamp to grant you more wishes; it just ain’t gonna happen no matter how hard rub or how many curses you scream at the genie. People are always going to presume that THEY know what is best for everyone else whether they know anything about their situation or not because people are basically assholes. Just remember, though, the next time you feel compelled to criticize someone on their sloppy appearance or suggest to someone that they “just get organized”, they might just punch you in the neck and tell you to go eat a dick in your goddamn Lulu Lemon yoga pants and you will, at that point, totally deserve it. XOXO

Also, I am just gonna leave this here for anyone who wants to tell me (or anyone for that matter) what kind of clothes I should wear or how my desk, living room, car, bank account, or bedroom should or could look if I “just get organized”!