Farmville, You're Makin' My Shit Slow

Is it necessary to be woken up with a blaringly loud "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"?  I say that it isn't.  I didn't even know where it was coming from.  I thought it was my television and that Teenaling was up and for some reason some Disney cartoon was on.  Its that hint of just a notch too loud when all you can do is think about it.  Like when you wake up during the night and have to pee.  Sometimes maybe you can ignore it.  Until you start thinking about it.  Then you have to get up in order to rid yourself of the nagging thought that you might never fall asleep with all the energy you are giving to the thought.  Or to avoid possibly peeing the bed.

I asked Teenaling if that was coming from the television and then slowly it descended on me like carbon monoxide....it was coming from outside the window.  There IS no turning it down.  It was 8:30am on a Sunday.  And if I'm not in the mood to hear these old moss covered oldies, then it sucks to be woken up by it. 

I'm seeing one of my bestest friends and co-host of our show, Scorpion Equinox tonight. AND her boyfriend, who is awesome with kids.  Well, awesome with my kid.  I'm not sure what his ratings are around the kid circuit.  So I wanted to make all this food for both rounds of visits...my dad coming by to give me things for my apartment (chairs, table, etc....we currently eat on the floor.  I like to think of it as a Japanese restaurant with vegetarian flair) and then for my buddy and her man.  So I ran out in the middle of the car show (the complete reason for my waking up to the lion getting to sleep and not me) to wash blankets for my buddies as they will be sleeping here, and pick up yummy cupcakes from our local bakery.  I picked up the awesomest beer for my dad for his visit and threw a mug in the freezer just for him.  I'm 42 and running around trying to beautify my house and self so that my dad has a pleasant place to chill for a bit.  And then he texted me to say that he's sick.  #Sadface.  Ok, so I could allow Teenaling to eat another deviled egg or two since there are less people to feed now.  

Someone had to rise to the challenge of having an iced cold beer.  Sigh.  Why do these things always happen to me?

In between all of this, Flip called, emailed, argued with me.  He called and I was calm but then came the Usual with a capital U.  As in this argument is always brought to you by the letter U.  Because everything is because of U.  I let him talk, which is hard.  He can talk for 10 minutes straight and in the meantime I'm dropping all his talking points out of my pockets because I can no longer keep track of what I'm supposed to address or is this just a diatribe?  Am I not supposed to answer, just listen?  And it usually has a lot of "YOU this and YOU that".  So I admit that I interrupted to say nicely (I swear) that hey, we should watch the "You" statements.  "I" statements are less barbed.  But he hung up on me and then emailed me that I interrupted him.  Because the Ticket Cop was out.  Ok, interrupting is not ok but sometimes you can hit the pause button in a sentence just to say, hey....whatever and please do go ahead now.  Which I did. And then realized there was no audience.  There was an email though of course letting me know what I've done wrong.  So this boils down to me emailing him an article on "You" vs "I" statements.  Because like garden gnomes that probably hijack my Saturn at night, it does exist.

And I ask you gentle souls....if you've got 235 complaints about someone per day and they aren't responsible for your paycheck, why are they in your life?  This is what I'd like to know.  Why is he hammering me and telling me constantly what I have or have not done to please his royal ass?  Stop talking to me if I'm that bad, seriously.  Oh that Paranoid Personality Disorder.  It's a rascal, that one.

So the child has been playing "We Wish you a Merry Christmas" for me on her keyboard and it's been lovely.  What I'd really love to hear her play is "Axel F".  I think Herbie Hancock did that one.  


I've got my fabulous, time sucking game of Farmville on in another window.  It's making everything weird and slow today.  I am attached to Farmville, dear Buddhists.  ATTACHED. I don't see the pleasure in it sometimes except that I MUST not let things wither and I MUST meet my goals.  It's not a game to me.  It's a piece of real life.  And if it makes everything else crawl along, then so be it.

She has also been asking me to buy things like googles, let's go to the beach ($25 for the day for the two of us) and carnivals.  Dammit kid, we only have money for cupcakes and beer.  Sheesh.