I’m self medicating…

This morning I got to experience the joys of incompetent tech support.
The employee at one of our satellite offices was attempting to install DSL and couldn’t get past the username/password screen.
I called AT & T and, after an interminable time answering questions from an automated voice:
“Have you been able to connect at all?”
“NO”
“Sorry, but I cannot understand your response.”
“NO!!”
“Sorry I cannot understand your response, please push 1 for NO, or 2 for shove it up your ass.” (Okay, it didn’t say that last part, but it might as well have…)

I ask the person, Oh!, the real human person, “How do we get assigned a user name and password?”
He asks what color the modem is and how many green lights are flashing. (In hindsight, I really wonder if he was totally fuckin’ with me)

I call the site:
“Hola, RE, gris or negra la modem, por favor?” “Numero verde el illuminata?”
“Gris, Quatro? Buenas dias”

Speaking to a 2nd tech support person, I exclaim triumphantly: “Four green lights and a grey modem!” Tech support guy: “Uh, well, we need the model number and type of modem.” SHIT.

I call RE back.

I have no idea how to ask for the model number in Espanol. Modelo? Modela? Tall skinny white chick + numero?

A third call to tech support begins with the tech guy announcing that with AT&T DSL you MAKE UP your own user name and password.

Necessitating a third call to RE to relay that information in butchered Spanglish:
“Cosmetico (a la AVON) tu password y user name. Hasta Luego”

She tried it; it didn’t work. (But, then maybe she was applying blush to her moniter, I’m not really sure.)

I get the bright idea to have her call AT&T and speak to someone in Spanish.

Finally, now, six hours later, her DSL is up and running.

And I have a wee headache that I’m soothing via Reeses Pieces, diet Coke and Tylenol.

I hate the chirpy phrase “TGIF!” but I’m totally feeling it today.

Life around Chez Wood has been a barrel of laughs lately, thanks to a certain twelve year old demon (oopps, I mean girl child). Saturday Reagan and I watched my lovely three year old niece Ashley. Exiting the most expensive ice cream place on Earth, Reagan announces “If you love Ashley so much, why don’t you just adopt her. You like her better than you like me anyway.” WTF?

We were walking towards the car when this little exchange took place; Reagan decides, no, she won’t get in the car, but would rather walk off in a huff towards the pretentiously named, freeze-your-ass-off-in-winter mall. I put Ashley in her car seat, did a U-ey, and drove up next to my aggrieved daughter. She was calling her dad, to tell him that her mother just drove off and left her at the mall, all by herself, for no reason. Yes, because that’s something I would totally do….

The next night we were chatting amiably, and she announces “I wrote Ashley out of my will today.”

I am sure Ashley will be devastated at the loss of her inheritance…. puppy posters, Bowling for Soup CD’s, lip gloss and tank tops.

Last night the disinheritor had a fit because I needed to use “her” cell phone. She was rude, disrespectful, disobedient, and ended up grounded.

Checking my email this morning, she sent me this missive:

“mom, this grounding is so unfair. i didn’t do anything. i mean, what happened to freedom of speech? plz talk 2 me,
Rea”

Yes, Reagan, “freedom of speech” definitely applies to insolent 12 year old girls talking back to their mothers. That’s exactly what the framers of the Constitution had in mind….

Edited to add: Today I get an email from my friend, Laura, the one I was chatting with on “Reagan’s” cell phone. Apparently, when I got off the phone Reagan text messaged her the following message:

“Thank u Laura. now my whole life is ruined because of u. Reagan ps dont tell my mother about this OR I WILL DIE. siht daer u naC”

Laura emailed me to ask about the text message:

“1. What in the heck did I do? Dare to call you on the phone?
2. How will you kill her?”

Luckily I have good friends who understand the dramatic nature of my child and don’t hold it against me. I responded to Laura:

“Laura,
OMG, IASS (I am so sorry), MCISAPITA (Can you figure
that one out? My child is such a pain in the ass).
You ruined her life by calling me on her phone, thus
MAKING her be belligerent and not getting to go roller
skating this Friday night at the make-out-aporium…
So sorry, again, for my horrifically awful child.
She will be dealt with severly, or should that be
FATALLY?
Love,
Jennifer”

Well, it all began one night, approximately March 4, 1994, your dad and I had had a little bit too much to drink and….

Watching TV with my 12 year old daughter and a commercial for the DVD of “Knocked Up” plays:

Guy: “A girl can’t get pregnant if she’s on top.”
Other Guy: “Yeah, it’s against the laws of gravity.”

Oh boy.

Me: “Reagan, yes, you can get pregnant if you have sex in any position.”

Reagan: “How do you know?”

Panic fills her eyes, she quickly blurts out “No, NEVERMIND, I don’t want to know!” (Covers ears with hands, hums loudly)

It was funny, but really, that commercial seems a bit irresponsible to me. How many 13, 14, 15 year olds will see that and assume it is true? Yes, I know it’s a commercial for a comedy, not a reputable source of information for sex ed, but I can imagine the conversation now:

Teenage boy: “Chris told me at school, that his cousin saw this show on TV and this guy, I think he was a doctor, he said that you can’t get pregnant if the girl’s on top, it’s like, totally true.”

Teenage girl: “That doesn’t seem right.”

Teenage boy: “But, dude, it’s like, a scientific fact, it’s gravity.”

Poor, poor Demi Moore. She was quoted earlier this week in the newspaper as saying:

“There aren’t that many good roles for women over 40. A lot of them don’t have much substance, other than being someone’s mother or wife.”

Wow. So her role in “Striptease” was substantive?
Or her acting in “The Scarlet Letter” was outstanding?

Couldn’t her current lack of success have more to do with the fact that she sucks? And that her movie choices have been poor?

Maybe choosing parts that solely highlighted her physical attributes was not the best strategy for a long term career? Ya think?

(I’m not denying that things get more difficult for female actors as they age, but in the same day’s paper there was an article about Helen Mirren and the four Emmy’s that she just won.)

While some of us are content and have good content…. I’m just mehhhhhhhhh….

So far this week I have received a bill from the IRS for $2374. For an unknown 1099-miscellaneous form that apparently didn’t get forwarded from California. From 2005. Ugh. The amount on the 1099 was pretty minuscule, but it bumped us up to a higher tax bracket, increasing our taxes, and OH! The fees! The penalties! The interest!

Then our dripping water heater began seriously leaking, causing us to have to dump a pan of water every two hours for 24 hours straight until the plumber could come to replace it. Thank you, Taylor, for getting up at 12 am and 4 am, on a school night, to keep the laundry room from flooding. Chris took the other night shifts, as Reagan and I both needed our beauty sleep.

Today a health care provider called to let us know that my husband’s primary care physician had not sent a correct referral to the insurance company and Yay! We now owe $660 for services provided in the month of July. (No word yet, on how much we will owe for visits in August and September, this being a chronic condition requiring weekly appointments.)

Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy!

Actually, oddly, despite this I’m in a pretty good mood.

Nix, that, maybe it’s the pain killers. I woke up this morning with back pain, neck pain and, yes, HIP pain! I feel 85, rather than 35. It’s especially joyous since I didn’t do anything to “earn” this pain. No car accident, no fall, no athletic endeavours. I think I SLEPT wrong. Yes, that is the true sign of aging, the ability to “sleep wrong.” Meanwhile, my kids can curl up in a ball on one of those papasan chairs and wake up perfectly refreshed. (But, I can eat cake for breakfast! And drink soda whenever I want to!)

Brotherly love.

Several times over the last week my daughter, Reagan, has asked me to quiz her for a social studies test, to check her math, to read her essay. I have been very impressed with her responsibility, her forethought, her maturity. Last night I told her so; her response:

“Oh, I just want to do better than Taylor (her older brother).”

Friday night I met friends (Katrina, MarySue, and Laura) at Eamon Patricks. After MarySue and Katrina commiserated with Laura on the loss of her dear Grandma I told the following story:

“Today I bought a soda at Phils (local grocery store) and it was flat. I took it back to the store to exchange it. I handed it to the cashier and she’s like ‘Oh, it smells flat.’ And I’m like WTF? So, I go get a new soda and tell the cashier, ‘Denise, can I open this here and taste it? Because it might be flat, too?’ (My friends’ eyes are glazing over about now) She’s all, like, ‘Okay.’ So I taste it and it’s flat, too! I tell Denise, hand it back to her and she opens it and TAKES A BIG DRINK of the soda. And I’m all like, OMG, she just drank a drink of soda after a customer. Isn’t that just so weird?”

My friends are all, like, “Yah, Jennifer, that’s odd.”

“Oh, and what made me think of that, my soup is good, and I thought, ‘Oh, Laura might like this soup, but I’ve only got, like, the one spoon, and if I offer her a bite, I’d have to offer her my spoon.’ And, ewwww… that’s kinda gross.”

Thinking about this exchange, I realize, One, I’m an asshole. I mean, really, Laura’s grandma died, people are offering condolences, and my contribution to the conversation is asinine. (Yes, I just totally looked up asinine, because really shouldn’t it be ASSinine? That would make more sense) Two, I still talk like a 7th grader, with a stream of consciousness, rambling style that includes way too many “likes.” Three, God, I’m BORING!

Saturday, my sister Kelly and her kids came over to celebrate my dad’s 63rd birthday. Following dinner, Reagan put the candles on the cake, writing the numbers 6 and 3 with candles, only she wrote the 3 backwards. She didn’t even realize it when we pointed it out and drew one in the air, also backwards. Is it possible to not show signs of dyslexia until the age of 12?

Kelly brought me a bag of Circus Peanuts , a gag gift, based on the fact that I once had a slip of the tongue in saying “I love to eat Circus Peanuts.” (Say circus peanuts 3 times fast and you’ll get it.)

Sunday, some of the moms’ of 8th graders threw a cook out to foster unity amongst my son’s 8th grade class. It’s a small school and the moms felt that the kids were being too clique-ish.

My son wouldn’t go because “No one cool is going.”

So we stayed home and had pressed Cuban Sandwiches and Roasted Onion Gorgonzola soup for dinner. Yum.

Boys, they are so cruel.

Tay: “Mom, I downloaded some new songs: Saosin, ????, and Lazy Eye.
Me: “Oh, does ‘Lazy Eye’ make you think of me? I have a lazy eye, you know, only it only strays when I am really tired.”
Tay: “No, it doesn’t make me think of you… now, if it was named ‘granny arms’ then I’d think of you.”

Opposites

My kids are opposites. A boy and a girl, one year apart in age. One likes pop, the other alternative. One only likes meat and carbs, the other loves fruits and veggies. One is very active in extra curricular activities and the other would sit in his room playing video games 24/7, if allowed.

Their responses to events vary greatly.
For example, this week there was a lice outbreak at their school; mandating inspections of the middle school kids’ heads.
My son’s response: It was so cool, J. has a ton of hair and so much dandruff that it took them forever to check him.
My daughter’s response: GROSS!!!!! ICK!!!! YUCK!!!!!!!!

When hired I wonder if the administrative staff was told about their role in lice inspections? I think that would have been a deal breaker for me.

(BTW, luckily neither of my children have lice, BUT ever since then my head has been itching. The power of suggestion is strong, especially when it comes to creepy crawly things.)

Another example, in preparation for “picture day,” Chris and I took the kids shopping for new outfits. Taylor and I had a fruitless search ending with my saying “Fine, wear something you already own.” Reagan, demanding to shop with her father, got pants, a tank top, a sweater, and a new purse. A purse that won’t even be in the picture; her dad is such a sucker. And she is so, should I say “smart?” or “manipulative?” She is outstanding at setting up a situation, working things to her advantage. I worry she might be a natural born con artist. (Or attorney? That is her goal, after all.)

One thing both my kids are united about-a fierce determination not to smile for their pictures today.

“1985″

Woohoohoo
Woohoohoo

Debbie just hit the wall
She never had it all
One Prozac a day
Husband’s a CPA
Her dreams went out the door
When she turned twenty four
Only been with one man
What happen to her plan?

She was gonna be an actress
She was gonna be a star
She was gonna shake her ass
On the hood of white snake’s car
Her yellow SUV is now the enemy
Looks at her average life
And nothing has been alright since

Bruce Springsteen, Madonna
Way before Nirvana
There was U2 and Blondie
And music still on MTV
Her two kids in high school
They tell her that she’s uncool
Cause she’s still preoccupied
With 19, 19, 1985

Woohoohoo
(1985)
Woohoohoo

She’s seen all the classics
She knows every line
Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink
Even Saint Elmo’s Fire
She rocked out to Wham
Not a big Limp Bizkit fan
Thought she’d get a hand
On a member of Duran Duran

Where’s the mini-skirt made of snake skin
And who’s the other guy that’s singing in Van Halen
When did reality become T.V.
Whatever happened to sitcoms, game shows
(on the radio was)

Springsteen, Madonna
Way before Nirvana
There was U2 and Blondie
And music still on MTV
Her two kids in high school
They tell her that she’s uncool
Cause she’s still preoccupied
With 19, 19, 1985

Woohoohoo

She hates time make it stop
When did Motley Crue become classic rock?
And when did Ozzy become an actor?
Please make this stop
Stop!
And bring back

Springsteen, Madonna
Way before Nirvana
There was U2 and Blondie
And music still on MTV
Her two kids in high school
They tell her that she’s uncool
Cause she’s still preoccupied
With 1985

Woohoohoo

Bruce Springsteen, Madonna
Way before Nirvana
There was U2 and Blondie
And music still on MTV (woohoohoo)
Her two kids in high school
They tell her that she’s uncool
Cause she’s still preoccupied
With 19, 19, 1985

Singing to this song with my 12 year old daughter and her friend, P. I noticed one mis-sung lyric … wherever it says “There was U2 and Blondie” they BOTH sang “You-tube.” So, so sad.

Another song they really, really like and insist is absolutely true is :

High School Never Ends

Four years you think for sure
That’s all you’ve got to endure
All the total dicks
All the stuck up chicks
So superficial, so immature
Then when you graduate
You take a look around and you say HEY WAIT
This is the same as where I just came from
I thought it was over
Aw that’s just great

The whole damn world is just as obsessed
With who’s the best dressed and who’s having sex,
Who’s got the money, who gets the honeys,
Who’s kinda cute and who’s just a mess
And you still don’t have the right look
And you don’t have the right friends
Nothing changes but the faces, the names, and the trends
High school never ends

Check out the popular kids
You’ll never guess what Jessica did
How did Mary Kate lose all that weight
And Katie had a baby so I guess Tom’s straight
And the only thing that matters
Is climbing up that social ladder
Still care about your hair and the car you drive
Doesn’t matter if you’re sixteen or thirty-five

Reese Witherspoon,
She’s the prom queen
Bill Gates,
Captain of the chess team
Jack Black, the clown
Brad Pitt, the quarterback
I’ve seen it all before
I want my money back

The whole damn world is just as obsessed
With who’s the best dressed and who’s having sex,
Who’s in the clubs and who’s on the drugs,
Who’s throwing up before they digest
And you still don’t have the right look
And you don’t have the right friends
And you’re still listen to the same shit you did back then
High school never ends

High school never ends

The whole damn world is just as obsessed
With who’s the best dressed and who’s having sex,
Who’s got the money, who gets the honeys,
Who’s kinda cute and who’s just a mess
And I still don’t have the right look
And I still have the same three friends
And I’m pretty much the same as I was back then
High school never ends

High school never ends

High school never ends

Here we go again

I think “real life” is nothing like high school. No drinking Dr. NightTrain cocktails. No indiscriminate sex with strangers (well, rarely). No skipping class and getting high with friends. No petty shop-lifting or minor vandalism. Worse, yet, no lunch consisting of snowballs and fritos while still maintaining a slim figure.

Okay, okay, I was just joking about all that (well, mostly). I had a pretty good time in high school. However, I love the freedom adulthood offers and I tried to explain this to the girls.
Me: As an adult if you don’t like someone you don’t have to be around them.
Girls: What about at work?
Me: Well, you still have options, if you really dislike someone you can get a new job.
Girls: What about being popular?
Me: As an adult, being popular isn’t really a factor. It’s more about spending time with friends and your family.
Girls: No, it’s still all about being popular.
Me: No, really, it’s not.
Girls: Yes, it is.
Me: No, it’s not.
Girls: Yes, it is.
Me: Ugh
It’s sad that the kids think a “Bowling for Soup” song is gospel about what adulthood is really like. Because, you know, punk/pop singers are known for being really mature. And their lives are just like ours.