Teenage Girls and the Terrible Twos

Girls between the ages of 13 and 14 are more exhausting than they were in the terrible twos, with many of the same issues: tantrums, mood swings, saying no to everything you ask, tantrums, brattiness, and tantrums.
They just discover the outside world where they can walk to the post office or the grocery store. Where there are new people and things to do and see. They test the boundaries over and over to see if by constant bashing they can widen those walls of protective parenting. They can drive a parent right over the edge into whining and crying and wine drinking.
I have two now. I'm really hoping that by the time the third one gets there in 1 year and 10 months that the oldest will be over it. Just like the flu, one at a time comes down with it and I run in circles until I fall down from exhaustion and declare myself to be ON STRIKE.
There's no one here to take over though so I can't lay on the floor for more than a few minutes before someone shouts "I'm going out to meet someone in the dark alley!" And I look up to see their boobs hanging out over their low slung tank tops and it's below zero outside and I can't see their eyes under all that makeup and they smile at me, just to see if I'm still alive.
I think they should give free medications and alcohol and full day trips to the spa to single mothers. With free childcare. And playpens to take home to put the teenagers in until they're at least 15. I hope it goes away by then. Or a vaccination to prevent the whole thing.
Are you listening Obama? I voted for you.

When someone tells me they aren't ever getting on Facebook and they tilt their head back slightly, pull their eyebrows down in consternation, and give me that I'm never going to join the cesspool of the internet look, I LAUGH. It's only a matter of time! If you're not on Facebook you're just not REAL anymore.
Facebook language and applications are part of real life social interactions now. We think in terms of status reports. We do quizzes to make major life decisions. We make avatars to interact with each other. If there is someone we're not sure about, we can conclude that at least they are our friend on Facebook and that MEANS something.
Alot of this is still murky though. If there's an exboyfriend and we friend him on Facebook are we cheating? If we just email through Facebook that doesn't really count, does it? If my puppet friends another puppet and she wants to ask him to be in a relationship, but he's not a very nice puppet, should she do it anyway because it doesn't MEAN anything, or should she keep her puppet integrity and not let all her teenage friends think she would Facebook relationship someone who posts nasty things?
As a parent, Facebook is where I get most of my information. I know who is where and when and what they're talking about with who. AHA, all you teenagers don't think about that when you post that you have snuck out of the house to meet the boyfriend you're not supposed to have.
Sometime in the future it's going to be mandatory to have a Facebook account. Everyone wants to know what you're up to. Your employer, your government, the aliens who are using us as an experiment. They've finally found a way to change our brain chemisty and turn us into Farmtown idiots who do what we're told and smile all the time. Join the herd, people!!!

ox wine kils brayne cells ded

If you can read that, you have a serious drinking problem and you should seek help immediately. Or you're in my kitchen. Either way, you still need immediate attention.

Today at work I was asked what the letters after my name are. I was like "What?" and then "Wait a second" and then I realized that I do indeed have letters after my name. I KNOW I'm supposed to be all high and mighty and use those letters when I sign my name on birthday cards and credit card slips in restaurants and on toilet paper in peoples' houses when I visit. They are supposed to be important to me and set me aside and above everyone who doesn't own letters.
They are so important to me that I had to go look them up! The MS I remembered. Master of Science. I'm a master of science!!!! That actually sounds pretty cool. But it's too close to PMS for comfort. Hello, I'm Kristi Z., PMS. Nope.
The other one I had to look up and I hope I got it right. ASAC. Apprenticed Substance Abuse Counselor. Being an apprentice makes me feel like a magician's apprentice, like Mickey with all his walking brooms, which is pretty close to what an ASAC does-- the neverending things to sweep up.
So now I have letters on an official college brochure. I feel smarter already. All powerful. All ready to go vacuum the cheese nips crumbs off the living room carpet. Yay!
I made up a new description for myself too, which should be included in any profile: winer. A combination of winner, whiner, and whino.
There should be letters after my name for making up cool new words. CNWM.
And Haley called me at work to tell me that they painted the lines in the parking lot at our place in the ghettos and that I should park straight this time. She knows me too well. I am a not straight parker. NSP
So I think that if a few letters makes me all powerful, then more letters means that I am on my way to being the MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE.
Kristi Z. PMS, MS, ASAC, CNWM, NSP
That's me!

Signs that You Are Mature Enough to Have a Threesome

Some background for those of you who don't know me: I'm (ahem) pushing middle-age. I've got two teens and a tween. I used to be entertaining, but now I'm tired and worn out and just want to live a simple and boring life. I was dating a guy 10 years younger a while back and he was trying to push the threesome thing on me, and wouldn't give it up because "every man wants a threesome and it's a sign of maturity to say so to the person you just started dating" and "you must be really insecure to not want to do this" and "you are just afraid I'd like the other woman better."

My Wonderfully Helpful Muse decided I should have a list handy of signs that someone is "MATURE" enough to handle a threesome:

•You're so BORED with your own damn performance that you need to be entertained. It is all just a performance, isn’t it?
•You can multitask.
• You are generous and enjoy sharing your bounty with many.
• You don't worry anymore about what other people think of you.
• You can share the cost of birth control
• You are quite handy.
• You were SO busy today that you had to do chair exercises.
• You need other people to do your work for you.
• At this point any work is good work
• You realize you don't need to have feelings to have a good time.
• You know that more hands always lightens the load.
• You realize it's all about the TEAM.
• You have developed excellent leadership qualities.
• You work well alongside others.
• You are good at providing support.
• You would ask someone to do something you wouldn't be willing to do yourself.

If you fulfill all of the above required characteristics please print them out and present them to your significant other along with your request. Just don't ask me ever again.

Help! My brain is Imploding: Sanity vs. Love

So in my life two things can't possibly exist at the same time: SANITY and LOVE. A man can't be sane and be madly in love with me at the same time. It just doesn't happen. If he's sane, has a job, doesn't live with his mother, then he doesn't really like me and he eventually bores me with his ambivalence. But if he calls me, takes me out, spends every moment thinking about me then eventually the facade of sanity wears off and I discover he's crazy as a loon. Although I'm not sure how crazy loons are. Where did that saying come from? He's as crazy as Edward Norton's personality in Primal fear, both of them.

So the question then is do they have to be crazy to fall for me? Or would anyone sane find me unattractive? Or are they as good at acting as Edward Norton and Aaron is the real Roy, or Roy is Ed, or maybe I just attract the wrong people because I'm just way too KIND for my own good.

So when a really crazy person doesn't like me, or at least says he hates me after I have to break up 3 times with him, then I don't quite believe him when he says that. Crazy people love me!

The worst part is that when a perfectly sane man says he loves me, I get all suspicious of his sanity. How can that be possible? You must be crazy! What are you talking about? The squareness of a sanity/love combination doesn't fit into the round hole of my brain.

What happens when two competing forces have to occupy the same space?

I drink more wine! Woohooo!

But seriously people, I am a Queen doubter among the cynical masses and I KNOW that it is possible for two people to love each other for years, to carry that with them, and to find each other again. And for both to be completely sane and madly in love. This knowledge is in direct conflict with my entire life experience. I am shocked by what I don't know, which apparently is a WHOLE LOT.

The Worth of Brothers

I was thinking about brothers today because I have so many that I feel like if I'm mad at one there are plenty of other ones to take their place. I had dreams of everyone growing up and changing and becoming a close-knit family that revolved around me, the only girl in a world full of brothers, but I guess a more realistic outlook would be Once an Ass, Always an Ass and I am no longer playing pin-the-tail on the donkey with a blindfold on.
Sometimes I wonder if it's me. Am I driving them away? Are my expectations too high for normal human interaction? Did that last question come out wrong somehow?
Is my expectation of not speaking of my daughter like she's the class ho too much?
Is it okay to say that Jewish people aren't really Jewish and can't be my friends?
Am I a doubter for not believing in a brother who says he's the new Messiah?
Is it okay to push Creationism at family gatherings?
Should I bow to the manly authoritative tone aimed directly at me?
It would be nice to say that we can still set aside our differences and get together for Christmas, but I do believe that would turn into a debate on where I came from, because I am NOT one of them. I am the blacksheep in a world full of men. We all know why.
I'm not playing anymore and I'm okay with that.

I'm just full of questions this morning. Like James always said when he didn't want to fess up to some new idiocy: I have lots of questions and no answers. My questions are more relevant than his were, because his were more about How fast can I run out the door so she doesn't catch me at it? My questions are more like:

If my muffler is making my radio rattle is that a bad thing?
Why is there so much makeup in the way of getting to my coffee maker every morning?
Will Sandra Bullock call me personally to thank me for the package I just sent her?
Why did I get the kids pets that I end up cleaning and feeding?
How did Haley manage to have her bedroom door fall completely off its hinges?
If I stop drinking wine will I lose weight or gain it? Or will Abrah gain it for me?
Why are the mosquitoes still multiplying and finding me on the couch at night even with the windows closed?
Why do I keep objects that have some personal significance, even if I never ever use them?
Where did Gina say that big spider was last night when she came screaming into my room?
How do really good people come from really messed up families?
Who lives in Hampton, Virginia?