Black Soul Virulent Injera Politics of Dancing

Oh, it has been far too long…

I just walked into the boys’ bathroom and caught all three of them, Larry, Mo, and Curly, slapping each other in the face. It was literally a Three Stooges Moment. I scared the hell out of them just by walking across the threshold; the teeny, tiny room went deadly silent. They stood there waiting for me to meter out their punishments.

Ah, football is great, isn’t it? Yes, these rambunctious boys are finally on a football team (actually, oldest and middle child are on the same team: that’s a whole ‘nother blog) and, let the games begin! What a wonderful, wonderful bargaining chip this is and, my, my, my; how violent and whiny they have become. Both of them hurt somewhere on their bodies at least once a day. Both of them act tough but show off their bruises and then talk (incessantly, I might add) about how sore they are, how tired they are, how this hurts or that hurts.

So, tonight, as I barked orders at them, they “Yes, Ma’am’d” me to death and went directly to bed without complaint, not in fear of being spanked (which they all deserved) but more in fear of being yanked from football practice. God, you’ve gotta love that. Immediate obedience and candor. Why in the hell didn’t we think of this earlier? Well, it’s expensive, and I mean, really, really expensive; and then there’s carting them around all over ABQ and back.

It’s worth it. It was worth it just to watch the about face tonight. Ah… Our three little stooges… But you should see them in their gear: very, very cute! And so awfully full of testosterone. What’s a girl to do? S and I giggle at them constantly. And cheer. And threaten when appropriate. It’s amazing how much homework is getting done and how the chores are actually done completely and on time.

S and I had two dates in one week. I know, right? Amazing! We haven’t had a date in over a year so we decided to have two in one week because we were both inspired. Our first date was with Bill Clinton and our second date was with Hillary. I guess, technically, you’d call that a threesome or, better yet, a three to six thousand-some. We made new friends, nonetheless. Neither of us know any of their names (except one, in my case, as I’ve made a nice contact with our lieutenant governor) but we affectionately remember them as, “Lady with the Son” and “My Dad for the Night.” There was one small mishap, not my fault, in which I almost pummeled a woman.

I was standing fairly close to the barrier, off to the side, when someone bumped into my back. We were pretty smooshed into this area so I simply turned around and said, “Excuse me.” Then I was pushed in the back… again. I turned around and looked at the woman. She looked back at me. A moment or two later, I was hit in the back and pushed forward. I turned around and politely asked this, fairly nicely dressed and seemingly middle-class woman to stop hitting and pushing me in the back. She called me a f&%*ing c*nt and told me to turn around. I couldn’t believe it. Here she was, this middle-aged, red-headed, English or Irish (couldn’t really tell the accent by those swear words) woman who was attempting to push her way to the front by ramming into me. Now, I’d been there, waiting, for three freakin’ hours and there was no way in hell I was going to let this woman through. My buddies around me were all mad at this woman as they could see and hear what she was doing. After all, I’d given everyone gum and kept them laughing as we all stood there, feet planted and legs locked, for so long that our tootsies were actually going numb. The only time any of us moved was to shift our weight and attempt to regain some blood flow to the lower-extremities. Then, hours into it, this woman comes along and decides she’s going to literally push her way in. Then she hit me in the back and pushed into me again. I swear to God, it was everything I could do to not hit the wench and knock her to the floor. Instead, I told her if she touched me one more time, I was going to knock her flat on her ass. To which she said, “You hit me and I’ll beat the f&#k out of you, right here, right now.” Nice, eh? She then moved off to the side of me and began doing the same thing to the little old lady next to me. By the end of it, she had pissed everyone off. I couldn’t believe the things she was saying! Finally, I told her to take her life-sucking, black soul to some other area because we were all tired of dealing with her nastiness. Then she called me fat. I just looked at her and smiled and said, “Well, I can change that… but you’ll always be an asshole. Move along.” And that was that as she literally pushed her way into the crowd in front of me.

Later, I told all of my new friends that, before it was over, we should all take the gum out of our mouths, smash it flat into the palm of our hand, and then grab a big chunk of her hair and smoosh it in. That got a big laugh but all of us knew that none of us would be doing any such thing. The thought of it was enough to make us all laugh and relieved the tension of wanting to kick the shit out of this woman.

Don’t you just hate that? One person can, due to their rudeness, set everyone off to the point of wanting to physically harm her. I really don’t think any one of us would have, but, still, it was enough to have all of us burning her black soul with our best mother’s looks. That’s Mob Mentality for ya.

Bill was here for a Thursday rally at UNM and Hillary was here the following Saturday at a local high school. Each time we, stood in line for at least 2 hours, froze our asses off, and, once inside, split-up because, you see, S is a photographer and I’m a poseur. See how well we get along? I worked the crowd while S worked the aperture. For Bill’s event, we had to sneak away while the kids were still in school. For Hillary’s, we actually paid a babysitter to watch the boys. It was well worth it despite the fact that we didn’t have dinner, stood in the cold for hours, then stood in a hot, stinky gym… for hours, and then simply did our own “thang” on opposite sides of the gym.

Here are the results:

That’s Diane Denish, our Lt. Governor, in the background.  I like her.  I like her, a whole bunch.  She introduced Hillary at both rallies.  We don’t need no stinkin’ governor!  We’ve got Diane and, someday, she’s going to be our governor!  All that “Woman Power” stuff was great. 

It was really fun. My kind of “date” when you consider all of the other choices like, PF Chang’s, a movie, going to the bookstore, going to Starbucks (God forbid!), hanging out in a bar (not our style), or getting new tattoos. (Hahahahaha! Carmen will love that line!)

S posted a photo of Hillary on an editorial stock photography website, and, well, she’s displaced Mojo at the number one spot. You’d think there would be plenty of photos of Hillary and not so many of a very cute, Bichon Frise’ but… nooooooooooo! Still, Hillary was a great date.

And then came Super Tuesday… My God, could my home state embarrass me anymore than this? Not enough ballots, long, long lines, many people turned away or leaving in disgust and not voting, and then, to top it off, some “officials” took several of the ballot boxes home with them because it ran so long and, well, they probably didn’t know what else to do with all of those ballots, right? Wrong. Something is really stinky about this and, still, we don’t have the final tally. It’s too close to call (by something like 100+ votes) so now they are counting them all over again. Jesus. H. What is wrong with these people? What an embarrassment…

We’ve all been terribly sick and passing it around like Ethiopian Injera; basically, a utensil of germs. Currently, middle child is down for the count but youngest is just starting a new wave. He’s not actually sick… yet. He acts-up, gets tired, and drops wherever he is and falls asleep, and then gets a snotty nose and hacking cough that doesn’t go away for a month. Poor little guy. It’s pretty common for kids with autism to have a compromised immune system and he is no exception. If it’s in the air; he gets it. And then I get it. Then S gets it. Middle child eventually gets it. However, if oldest gets it, we know it’s a particularly virulent infection because he never gets sick. He’s so excited about football that he will actually lie and say he’s fine and then attempt to go play while sporting a temp. No way, Jose’. No Football for YOU!

That’s how I’ve been measuring my days, weeks, and hours recently. It’s been very cold so it’s hard to tell if it’s a sickness or simply just so damned cold that the faucet turns on and the hacking is from that constant, drip, drip, drip.

Nasty.

Work is good although we just received the latest music thread and, well, Kenny G makes me want to kill myself. No, wait; he makes me want to kill everyone and then kill myself. No amount of espresso can make up for that emotion. And what is up with Sheryl Crow? I used to really like her and now she sounds like a burned out version of Hannah Montana. Sheryl, babe, you are over 40 now; stop it!

Mojo and Q are in love. Poor Mojo has the scars to prove it. Lulu is so over it that she hangs out with me and looks at me longingly as if to say, “Would ya get ‘em a room? Please?”

The dumbass neighbors have defaulted on their house. I caught them doing a Baghdad-Middle-of-the-Night-Move and asked what they were up to; moving was the reply. Duh! They still haven’t cleaned their backyard. Thank God it’s been cold otherwise… EW! You just never know about people, you know? Kinda like that black-soul woman and her push and shove routine.

People are so filled with high levels of entitlement, NIMBY, and such a terrible lack of manners. It’s uncouth!

Thank goodness for goodness. Between the sweetness of little boys and their football, mobs of people all hoping for the same hope in a presidential candidate, and volunteers who are actually worth their salt; there is balance in this world of ours.

That and a double tall, two pump, easy whip, mocha can really make your day!

All photos by S… Aren’t they marvelous?!  She got some really, really great shots and, I believe, had a great time doing it.