The Great Knife Debacle

Mr. Bitchford's birthday is on Tuesday. I went shopping this morning, and I wanted to make sure I bought something from a shop downtown. I wanted to spend my money locally. I settled on the idea of getting him a nice chef's knife. He's been wanting one forever, and it's one of those things that you won't buy for yourself. We happen to have a locally owned kitchen shop, and the owner is super nice. I popped in and was instantly annoyed. There was a very loud woman on her cell phone. She was screaming about not getting a receptionist position. After the screaming woman finished her call, she asked the owner for a job application. By this time, I had selected a knife and was having it wrapped. The screamer was being told that the shop was not currently hiring, but she could leave her name and number. The screamer went on to talk about how hard it was to find a job and how badly she needed one. I get it. I have friends that have been affected by the economy. I read the paper and listen to the news. I'm not stupid. I am also very grateful that for the most part I haven't been affected. I hope this continues.

Back to my story. So, the shop owner gives me my total. It was a lot, but I knew it would be. I wanted to get him something really nice. The screamer let out a gasp. She turns to me and says, "How can you justify spending that on a stupid knife, when I can't even feed all of my children?" How in the fuck does one go about answering a question like that? I stared at her. She followed up by saying, "You are just flaunting the fact that you can spend that much. This is just stupid." Off she went out the door. The shop owner was horrified. I told her it was fine. While I think this woman was blaming the wrong person, I do understand her frustration. There was that evil side of me that wanted to ask her one question. Who did you vote for in the last national election? I had a hunch about her answer, and I might have slapped the shit out of her. But, what do you do? Can you really be angry at a woman who just wants to feed her kids? I don't know. Any thoughts?

Jessie's Question

I would like to know if you would ever just up and leave eastwick and move somewhere better. Why or why not? Support your argument.

First of all, I think it's funny that you realize somewhere else would equal better. ;) Seriously, that's my plan. Mr. Bitchford has to finish school, and I need to finish too. I have no real attachments to Eastwick, but I do have real attachments to my southern roots. I can't leave the south. Sweet tea was running through my veins when I came into this world, and it will still be there when I leave. The older I get the more I realize how attached to my southern roots that I am. This does not mean I'm attached to religion, conservative politics, or the rebel flag. I just love the slow ways of the south. With that said, I would totally blow this town.

Here's my plan. I would love to move to Black Mountain, N.C. It would still have those southern roots I speak of, but I would lose some of the hateful politics of Eastwick. It would also have more of those slow ways I speak of. Oh, and it wouldn't be so damn muggy and hot there either. Mr. Bitchford is a mountain man at heart, so he would love to live in a place like this. When I was younger, I wanted to live in the middle of everything. These days it sounds appealing to be so far out in the wilderness that I only grocery shop once a month. Don't think I don't have a career plan for my move.

One thing I've noticed is that even if people tend to have more liberal leaning ways, they are still fucking obsessed with their children. I would be moving to a place that was part home-grown boys and part yuppies. This is where The Learning Community comes into play. No, I don't want to be a teacher here, but I do see an opportunity. I would move to Black Mountain and strip the yuppies of their cold-hard cash. I would help parents get their children into The Learning Community. How would I do this? Follow me.

I would start out by befriending some of those crunchy folks that are featured on the website. Organic Gardening Teacher to those kindergartners? Watch out! You won't know what hit you. I also might seek out this school's diversity token...Hui Te Lee. You will notice that the children and the parents must go through a lengthy interview process. If there is one thing I know, it's how to interview. I'm not sure why, but I'm excellent at it. I think I read people well...or it could just be my big tits. Anyway, I have a gift, and I'm willing to share it with the yuppies for a fee.

What would Mr. Bitchford be doing? Probably making moonshine and wearing overalls. So, would I leave Eastwick? Absolutely!

Ask Alex a Question

As you can see from yesterday's post, I have been questioning everything lately. In fact, I have a new list for today. I actually kept some scrap paper with me today and jotted a few down.

1. Why would someone want her armpits to smell like cherries?
2. Why are my panties up my ass?
3. How did I manage to mistake a leg of my panties for the waist? (explains #2)
4. Why do people send you emails that they need to talk, but they never tell you what it's about?
5. Should I be embarrassed that I like to blast Jimmy Buffett on my ride home?
6. Did anyone just see me fall up the stairs?

Ever wonder what my opinion on Prop 8 is? Ever wonder what truly evil things I have done?
If you would like to ask Alex a question, please send an email to alexbitchford@yahoo.com.

Pondering

Things that have run through my head today:

1. Why aren't hairy legs acceptable?
2. Why am I not hungry for breakfast when I have all day to burn that food off?
3. Do people really not understand what a four-way stop is?
4. Did I hit her or did she just run into my hand?
5. Shouldn't being a bleach blonde be much easier?
6. Those might possibly be the largest natural breasts I have ever seen.
7. Where is my flying car? Isn't it 2009?
8. Does my cube mate really think I want to hear him cough up a phlegm ball and spit it into the garbage?
9. Are dirty tennis shoes acceptable work attire?
10. Should I tell the office manager about the goopy mascara that gathers in the corners of her eyes each day?

Fuck you, Eddie!

Mr. Bitchford and I went out for a night on the town to celebrate a friend's 30th b-day. We had a great time, but I was a little nervous about what the night might hold for us. The last time we went out with this group, we almost ended up in a bar brawl on the sidewalk. Basically, some frat boys in pink polo shirts tried to break in line, and Mrs. Flax and I got really pissed. Plus, we had been drinking. Not a good mix. Long story short, the fratastics and the guys in our group sort of circled each other. I got pissed because one of the frastastics pushed Mrs. Flax. I began to verbally attacked him, shove him, and then tried to nail him in the head with my high heel. Not one of my finer moments. So, you can see why I was a little nervous.

Back to celebrating J's 30th b-day. J wanted to go to a mojito bar, which sounded really cool. We all walked in the rain to the bar, and there was a bad vibe when we walked in. Everyone turned to stare, and everyone was drinking water. What the fuck? Isn't this a bar? Have a drink! I spotted an empty couch, so we headed over. There was a group to our left, and they immediately got up. Mrs. Flax noticed a reserved sign on their table. It was reserved for Eddie. A minute later, a waiter came by and said we were in a reserved spot. Well, there was no sign on our table, but that's cool. We decided to move on. Once we were outside, J told us that Eddie's group had gotten up to tell on us. Again, what the fuck? Why wouldn't you just lean over and say, "I'm sorry. This spot is reserved." No big deal, right? It really made me want to go back and scream at Eddie, but I wasn't drunk. Thank God. We moved on to a better bar and had a great waitress. She played with us and didn't care how loud we got. The night ended with public school pizza and shots. I know you remember the square pizzas from elementary school. These were very similar and excellent bar food. We had to walk past the mojito bar to get to our car. It looked like it sucked in there. Of course, I had to yell, "Fuck you, Eddie," as we walked by. Even though I had several leis tied in my hair like a sweat band, no one blinked an eye. Overall, it was a good night, and I realized that I've grown up a bit since my shoe throwing days. This is probably a good thing. Happy b-day, J! :)

The "Nerve" of Skinny Jeans

I just read this article about how skinny jeans can cause temporary tingling thigh syndrome. The solution to this stupid problem is not to wear your pants so tight that I can see your lips that don't sing. Know what I mean? I will never suffer from the TTS because my legs are actually built for carrying me around. I don't have large legs, and I don't suffer from the cankles. I also don't have legs that belong on a spider. Mine do NOT go on forever. If I wore a pair of skinny jeans, I would look like a webble wobble. This is not a good look for me. I would say that a small percentage of women should even be wearing the skinny jeans. Let's say 5% of women actually look good in the skinny jean. Does this constitute an article on how they are suffering? How about an article featuring the suffering that normal women go through because stupid skinny jean wearing bitches try to make you think that they are the norm? Where is that fucking article? I've just had my ass on my shoulders all week, so please excuse this empty, ranting post. Later.

P.S. I will be attending a friend's 30th b-day bash tomorrow night. I'm hoping to snap some inappropriate photos and possibly catch a cat fight or two on tape. This can be a wild bunch, so I'll report back.

Ethical Responsibility or Not

I have a huge dilemma, and I have no idea what to do. I'm in a graduate program with several people that I work with. There are two people that are behind me in classes. They both just finished one of the more demanding professors that we have. For the purpose of this post, let's call these two folks Dip and Dope. So, Dip emails me to ask about borrowing a book. I email Dip back and say congratulations on finishing the battle axe's class. Dip sends me the following email back.

"I will call you in a bit....let's just say, I wrote Dope's final for him on a laptop on the way to class and didn't quote anything....unlike mine where I spent 2 days and quoted EVERYTHING, and Dope made a 34 out of 35, and I got a 31.5 out of 35! You do the math."

They cheated in graduate school! This is just a huge no-no. I don't condone cheating, but it does happen in high school and undergraduate school. People are young and stupid. They tend to learn. By the time you are in graduate school, you should know better than to pull this bullshit. It sounds corny, but you should really respect the institution, your professors, your classmates, and your degree more than this. Oh, and respect yourself. Mr. Bitchford thinks I should just suck it up and move on. He says the world just doesn't care. It really bothers me that my classmates and I have worked our asses off, and these two cheat their way through a course. Will they keep doing it? Who knows? Did they really even earn the degrees they currently hold? I have no utterly idea what to do...if anything. Help.

Tiny Dancer

Mr. Bitchford and I are babysitting this weekend. We are keeping one of Mrs. Flax's little ones. Our bedroom door swung open at 6:45 a.m. There was a little voice that squeaked, "I'm awake...GET UP!" I felt a large thud on the bed, and then there was a knee in my kidneys. The dogs started raising hell and jumped on the bed. The Tiny Dancer then requested pancakes and sausage for breakfast. We stumbled out of bed and headed towards the coffee pot. There were several high pitched squeals as we shuffled towards the kitchen. Mr. Bitchford started breakfast, and I began to unload the dishwasher. Do you have any idea how hard it is to unload someone else's dishwasher? Mrs. Flax will probably never find her measuring cups or whisks. Who has more than one whisk? I digress. Mr. Bitchford made some pretty good pancakes and some turkey sausage. We ended breakfast by putting little pieces of sausage in between the Tiny Dancer's toes. We proceeded to let the dogs loose. More high pitched squeals of laughter. It was a good morning.

UPDATE: I spoke too soon about the good morning. As I was posting this, I heard the Tiny Dancer screaming for me. I found him in his bathroom. He was bent over holding his ankles with his butt cheeks spread. He needed me to wipe him.

The Mail Saga

The US Postal service (in Eastwick) sucks ass. I don't understand what the problem is. Can they not read? I'm constantly getting other peoples' mail, which makes me think that my mail is going to other places. I've affixed a giant sticky note to the inside of my mailbox. It has my last name in bold print. If the mail doesn't say Bitchford, then why the fuck am I getting it?!? I received someone's unemployment check today. This shit is serious. There is some poor man waiting on his check, and I have it. I can't decide if I should take it to his home, or if I should put it back in the mailbox with a note. I would hate for the man to miss some of his bills or something else important. I've lodged so many complaints, and I just don't think I should have to pay for a PO Box. Also, I doubt I would make it by there very often. My favorite piece of misdirected mail was from a prisoner. It was a sweet, little St. Patrick's Day card. It had a cute mouse on it and said, "Top O' the Day to You." Then I read it. Some of my favorite lines were:

"Baby, I hear that ass is so fat!"

"I know how you do, Boo."

"I heard you were a flip mode girl. Why don't you answer the phone?"

My brother-in-law ended up naming a band The Flip Modes because of this card. In fact, every New Year's Eve someone pulls it off the fridge and gives us a little performance. My favorite is our friend J.A. He adds a little Irish accent to it. So, while this particular card was a true gem, for most part, the US Postal Service still sucks complete and total ass.

P.S.
Continue to send good vibes. My first class meeting is Friday!

A Good Idea at the Time

As I sit here reading page after page of law definitions, I wonder why in the hell I thought it was a good idea to go back to school. The last time I walked across the stage I just knew that was it for me. I had gone as far as I wanted to go, and I was satisfied. Wait. I started to remember the fancy velvet hoods that the graduates before me were getting. Damn it! I really wanted one of those. So, here I am. I'm drowning in text that the normal person would consider mind-numbing, but I actually find it interesting. I can't wait to bust out in a meeting with some of my new knowledge. Our first official class meeting is on Friday, and I'm nervous. According to the syllabus, the professor kind of sounds like a dick. He doesn't allow drinks in his classroom. WTF? Plus, I've seen him. He wears a bow tie. I generally hold that against men, and I do not know why. Maybe it's because these same men probably wear sun visors and play golf with the likes of Lovey Howell's husband. *sigh* I guess I'll suck it up. Send some good vibes my way.

Pomp and Circumstance

I went to the graduation party. It was nice. I was so relieved when I walked in because there was one person I know. The woman who runs the tutoring center was there. She's just fucking awesome. I like her because she's one of those people that can get someone to shut his/her trap without being obvious. People don't even realize that she's kind of insulted them until it's too late to say anything. So, I sat beside her and her husband. The student's mom was really low-key and just tried to blend in. Her crazy aunt came over to introduce herself. I plastered on a huge smile and kept nodding. I hate meeting new people anyway, and it is worse when I feel like you've shitted on someone I care about. She moved along. The dad was the worst. He was drunk. He had brought a cooler of his own beer to the restaurant. Nice, right? Every time a present or card was opened he would yell, "How many zeroes are on that check? Can I have it?" Ugh! The funniest part was the student's uncle. He called himself "The T-bird." I'm not kidding. He was loud, and he would rub his big beer belly each time he told a stupid joke. Finally, my friend leaned over the table and pointed at him. She said, "So, T-bird, will you be going to graduation?" The smile dropped from his lips, and he stared at her stupidly. He said, "Uh, no, I don't think so." She said, "Very good, then." The party kept going and a few minutes later I saw T-bird scratching his head. He just realized that a Yankee bitch told him off (this is a big deal in Eastwick). Ha! Overall, it was very nice. I was glad I sucked it up and went. The student looked so pretty and happy. It was a good night.

Questions to Ponder

The questions below pretty much sum up the first half of my day.

Why did the IT guy change the password to my email account, and then email me the new password?

Why do people continue to get in the left-hand only turn lane, and then put their blinker on to get over in the right-hand lane?

Why do people still wear jelly shoes?

Why do pregnant women let their naked bellies hang out of shirts?

Why does the cat insist on sleeping on the only white comforter in the house?

What the Fuck is Wrong with People?

I've talked about the at-risk youth that I tutor, and I try not to blog about them too much. I don't know why, but I feel like I shouldn't blab their stories, even if you guys would never know who they are. Anyway, here's what happened today. One of them is graduating from high school in a few weeks. She's so excited, and she's gone through some really rough times to get where she's at. Her family has not been that supportive of her. Her grandparents seem like they are really behind her, but the rest seem, well, jealous of her. Her mom is usually doped up and has no idea what's going on. Her dad is usually drunk and has no idea what's going on. She told me that her dad traded her for a car when she was 7 years old. Her grandmother had to come pick her up. WTF? Anyway, she has an aunt (her mom's sister) that is sometimes nice to her. The aunt decided to throw her a big graduation party. She reserved a room at a restaurant and ordered a special cake. It sounded like she had gone all out for her. Well, the student called me today and was crying. We met for lunch, and she gave me the invitation. The aunt decided not to pay for any food. Guests can come and sit in the nice reserved room, but we will all be paying for our own meals. Now, this doesn't bother me, but the student was mortified. She doesn't want to ask people who have helped her to come and celebrate and pay for their own meal. I tried to make her feel better, but she just kept crying. She finally fessed up and said she thinks her aunt did it on purpose. The aunt has a history of wanting to celebrate the student's accomplishments, but then she gets really jealous and backs off. I'm going to show up and support her. I have no idea what to expect of the family. Her mom and dad will be there. I will go and try to smile and make small talk. I'm going to need several Xanax to get through this dinner.

LMAO @ Other People and What-Not

This is my new favorite website:
http://whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com/
It is funny--but also sad.