Exploding Heads are Messy

This last week has been somewhat hellacious, hellerific, and hellified.  Doesn't matter why, really... it might have something to do with the Ranch, or not.  I'm not sayin' either way. o_O


But I discovered that sometimes you can't make everyone happy.  In fact, sometimes you can't make anyone happy... no matter how hard you try.  And the harder you try, the higher your blood pressure gets.  Until your head finally explodes.  Then there's this whole mess to clean up.  And it's like when the family dog poops on the carpet, no one wants to clean it up... yeah, same thing following a brain explosion.  No one wants to scrape the brains and gore off the walls, and there are all these nasty stains on the carpet.  Then everyone is even more cheezed at you because you made the mess, but being brainless now, you are in no condition to clean it up.


See what I mean? You just can't please everyone.




(This guy obviously works with ppl who are considerate enough to clean up the brain leavings...)


Other little maxims that apply:

• you can't be in two places at once
• you can't have your cake and eat it too
• to thine own self be true

Ok, that last one was a reach.  Big deal.  I'm brainless, remember? My head exploded.... duh!!

not your mama!!!!

now, all my friends and coworkers know this, but i feel the need to enlighten the random reader with this background info, purely in the interest of context.

i had a simply amazing mother. she died just about 5 years ago--Jan. 17, 2004. (oddly enuf, my boyfriend's birthday. . . . ) but when she was alive, and healthy, she was the queen of our family. there is no doubt of that. now, she and dad were married for 37 years when she died, and she took care of EVERYTHING!! house, bills, insurance, all that shit.....dad mowed the grass, went to work and handed over his paycheck. period.

i have a younger brother. he's zero for three in the marriage department. i love him coz he's my brother and i hafta, but he's a fathead. he likes harleys, beer and chicks. preferably all simultaneously.

mom took care of everyone's everything. then she died. now, the fathead and my dad think that I have some intentions of taking care of them like mom did. ummmm.......no. i'm not my mom. and i'm fasho not tryna be their mama!! here's where we go from the context to the meat n potatoes of this posting.

dad lives in the basement apartment of the house, and fathead is currently occupying my guestroom. fathead returns whenever he's between chicks. i let him come back because i'm secretly still afraid that my mom will retun to haunt me if i don't take care of her baby boy. meanwhile, i have my own six year old son, Eli, whose "daddy" has not seen since he was four weeks old. so, admittedly, i derive some benefit by my dad being in the same residence, and when sober and home, my brother has the potential to be an adequate backup babysitter.

but here's the bump in the road. these people honestly think i'm fittna clean up after their asses!!! they think imma work 12 hour shifts on a fairly busy medical unit (i'm a registered nurse), keep the bills paid and keep the house clean, schedules arranged, grocery shopping done, laundry washed, etc. weeeeeelllllllll......... they're only wrong. now, my mom did it. she did. she did hair 12 to 16 hours a day, 5 and 6 days a week, then turned around, made dinner, cleaned up, helped us with homework, bathed us, got us to bed, then stayed up til midnite or 1:00 in the morning doing laundry and housework, got up at 6:00 and did it all again. she was either a more dedicated woman than i will ever be or she was a martyr or just a sucka!! i choose to believe she was more dedicated, coz she's my moms and i love her. point is, tho, I AM NOT THAT!! she was a better person than i will ever be. i'm ok with that. honest.

and here's my logic: we are all adults. we all live in the same house. we all have jobs. we are all able to clean up the house. if we all do SOME of the housework, no one has to do ALL of the housework. i think the simplicity of the solution is elegant and beautiful. everyone does something, no one does everything.

but these clowns want a mama. well....... I AM NOT YOUR MAMA!!! (except for Eli, and I am his mama). therefore, although it is killing me, i am on strike. let this bitch pile up, let the pile fall around them and let them know, i am done. help me or live in it like you leave it. i am patient. i can outwait them. game on, boys.....