One of those blogs...

Where I need to unload a little.

Bloggers, I have become the explination lady. And I really hate the job. I mean really really.

It started years ago. When the pieces of my marriage fell apart, it was me that ultimately explained the bare facts of what was going on. Like I said before, we never had the 'talk', but I did explain things. Then I explained the move. Then the next move. I explained the new school. And the next new school. Then I eplained charter school and uniforms. Then in 2008, I explained Ome's first hospital stay and the owie they had to go inside to fix. Then I explained me going to work. Then I had to explain how Daddy and Mrs. S could have a baby when they were not married. Wow.

Then Ome's second hospital stay. Then my decision to move them to where they basically knew no one. I had to explain why mommy was mad at the lack of stove and fridge. Nothing big.

A funny thing happened then, I stopped explaining to my kids and started explaining to everyone else. To my mom about why I deal when Randy jerks me around. To section eight, the food stamps, to medicare, the repeat that process about four times.

Most recently we switched back to my kids. I had to explain to then about the break in. I had to try an exolain my shellshock. Then they were supposed to have a sleep over on Saturday but then a bad thing happened that for the first time in a long time I had to skim the outer most layers of the situation to get something I could tell them and damn if they didn't spend Saturday and that night pissed as hell at me because in their world, I had called it off and it was my fault and they had been good all week for shit. I'm going to have a tough time promising the be good for a week for reward thing again.

So today I had to wake them up and tell them that Ome is in the hospital again. I had to explain that she needs surgery again. Except I had been explaining to children for so long I didn't notice I was now talking to tweens, pre tween and thinks I'm a tween. What came out was "Ome is in the hospital, she has an owie that they have to fix." When bounced back was, "Ome has o have surgery again? Is it her hernia or something else?"

Btw, its her hernia. The repair needs to be repaired. Trust Jersey Shore University Medical Center to eff it up once and three years later. From four hundred miles away no less. Now that's talent.

I can't do the explaining job anymore. I have no heart for it and apparently I kinda suck at it. What with my targert audience growing up and all.

Not a failure moment, bloggers, but a tired moment and not because I'm running fourteen hours on one hour sleep wih a body shaking cough. Just tired. Hand the microphone to the next person and just go the hell home tired.

I'm going to send the kids off to school and catch a few zzz's by the tail.

Good morning/night/ afternoon bloggers. Terminally Single and Blogging is going in search of sleep.

Because everyone simply NEEDS to know this!!

A chicken can be hypnotized, or put into a trance by holding its head down against the ground, and continuously drawing a line along the ground with a stick or a finger, starting at its beak and extending straight outward in front of the chicken.

Useful Facts for Android

$#!% my kids say...

Those of you with kids, have your kids ever said something that was so totally off and out there that it could be considered a zingger cause the shit zinged right past you with the force of a cannon??

The other day my kids were watching Shrek the Third (I can't wait to get forever after) and since this is maybe the hepzillionth time they've watched this they decided to tour the special features.

One of the features was a magic eight ball type thing called ask Mr. Merlin, the wizard in the movie. They asked it nonsense questions for an hour then after many pokes and prods got me to submit a question.

Well, my question was "Will I meant a rixh handsome man and get married?" Merlins answer was yes, definately yes. (I really love Merlin at this point.) Well, O come running into my room screaming, "he said yes, mommy, definately yes!" At this point she takes a running leap and lands on my full bodied and with a crash. She hugs me and then looks in my face and says, "I'm going to have a daddy again. One that loves us and wants to live with us cause he likes us!!"

Seriously??? (Thank Patty for bringing back the Greys Anatomy phrase.)

What the eff do you say to that sentence??? Do you call the dad and say we need to have a talk? Do you phone him and gloat? Or, do you sit and think what the hell has my divorce done to my kids??

We never had the divorce talk. Not once. Daddy was there one day and mommy was in tears, and daddy was gone and mommy smiled a real smile in perhaps the first time in their short lives. I'm pretty sure they figured it out after the first year. We even covered the why doesn't daddy live with us anymore at all thing. After all he was in the navy, they are used to him being absent in the home.

But still....

Seriously?????

And the funny thing is, I don't have one of those You-seriously-effed-up-as-a-mom clouds hanging over my head this time. I can't find it. I'm kinda lost in parenting territory here...

Terminally Single and Blogging is suddenly not so sure she can do ths parents of tweens thing....

*gasp*

So follow up...

Nothing really, just honestly felt like letting the little thoughts out for one last romp before I tuck them into bed. I haven't decided whether I'm going to sing them to sleep with a sleeping pill or with alcohol. Either one will render me incapable of waking up in thye night screaming my fool head off.

What kind of person does this?? There are pictures of my kids all over. Right above the tv are big canvas pics of them. They did this knowing that they were doing this to three kids. What kind of person lives with themselves after that???

And why me? Why only the wii? Why not the remotes? What have I done to make them think this was anywhere near okay? If I had come home instead of staying out would this have happened?

The CSI lady was really nice. She talked and talked and it was like talking to an old friend. She even complimented my jewelry and when I told her she could have any piece she wanted she was over the moon. She even came back like five minutes later and paid me for the bracelet saying it was way too good craftmanship to just give away.

That was nearly my second undoing.

After I boarded up the window, I went into the closet and had a good laugh which in turn led to a good cry and thankfully another good laugh. Don't ask me what I was laughing at, I think it was one of those brain disconnected laughs.

Bloggers I don't know if I can do this anymore. My sanity has always been fragile, I admit that. I've had a few times when the glass tipped over and a few time when the glass just cracked. I am a great patcher. I can fill in the cracks enough to keep trucking. My divorce is a crack I can fill. Everytime I fill what I see, it just gets that much longer. Its like a windsheild crack. Every now and then it just spiders along, growing.

I'm honestly running low on filler at the moment and desperately need to fnd some more. I need more before my glass gives into the cracks and shatters.

Who would pick up the pieces and even try to put them back together?

This is stuff that runs through my head. This is why I blog.

Le sigh.

My time is coming. Everyone keeps telling me so. I am getting tired of waiting, but I'm hanging on.

Terminally Single and Blogging has decided to just go with the sleeping pill. Who needs a depressant right now?

Le sigh...

Why...

As I sit here and watch the police officer drive away without so much as a word to me, I can't help but wonder why me?

Bloggers I got broken into again. I left my house with all doors locked and all windows bolted and came home to find that someone had smashed in my window and come into my house again.

I may or may not have blogged then but it was the day after my birthday and they came in a window that I had mistakenly left unlocked and took my flatscreen tv out of my room. They left a brand new computer on the dining room table as well as a wii upstairs. Cops never figured out who did it. I stopped inquiring after a month.

I came home from Pattys house this afternoon about two fifty and found my bedroom window smashed this time.

What gets me is the person doing this seems to be fucking with me. The last time they robbed me they left a computer. This time they left TWO computers both with flatscreen monitors and went right into my living room and stole the wii. They left the remotes and the nunchucks and the wii fit board. They took the wii, the sensor bar, and the cords. They left through the back door which they had to physically unlock and the alarm on my door went off as soon as it was opened.

I have a bubble of hope however. When they came in my window they dropped something which most definately has a print on it. I won't say what here but its a good clue.

So now I have an open hole in my house that my realty company may charge me to fix and may not but probably won't be able to come out and fix tonight most likely.

You know what bothers me the absolute most, bloggers. The wii was two years old and honestly needed to be replaced but inside the wii was the game wii resorts. My kids pooled their christmas money together to buy that. For the first time in recorded history, they worked together as a unit. It was just that special.

They asked to play wii last night and I told them this weekend they could. Now I feel like worlds biggest douche beccause if I had let them, then they would have had one more night with it.

I don't have the money to replace anything nor do I have the money to fix anything.

I feel like... you know what? For the first time in a long time, bloggers, I feel like a failure. I can't protect my kids or their stuff. I can't move because I have no money and no place to go. And it goes way back. I can't hold/get a man. I can't hold a good job. I just can't.

And right now if randy decided to take my kids I wouldn't even win because I have nothing to offer them but myself and I am a collossal failure at everything I do.

Terminally Single and Blogging is going to go attempt to glue her pieces back together and see if they resemble a human being.

Standing at Social services...

So I'm standing here in social services and there's this lady at the top of my line wearing pants that might have fit her when she was a teenager but they sure as hell don't fit her now. She keeps saying "I don't understand..." and the nice lady behind the desk is trying to make her understand but everytime she says what she's nexplaining she gets louder and louder. I feel like saying 0lease don't piss off the social services lady." But I don't because I am respectful but dangit this woman has been standing there for twenty minutes now.

I honestly dislike having to beg for benifits. Not that I think its below me because its not I just don't like having to beg. But I don't guess anyone likes to beg.

They're trying to cancel my medicaid. I filled out the form they sent and I even got it back to them the very next day and now they are saying that I am uncompliant. I would love to know what I am being uncompliant about. Hence the long wait in line.

I'm just grousing... I've lived long enough to know that this is a branch of the government and no matter what weapons u use, you can fight until u r as flat as land in Texas, you are not going to win. Hell I learned when I was a military wife that its a lot less painfull if you just bend over and take your butt reaming like an adult.

Le sigh...

Terminally Single and Blogging can't wait to get home and sim a little bit...

Simming...

So I have gone back to major simming and this time I think I am sticking closer to the truth of my family history than I ever have. Part of me wants to skew reality (more than I actually already am) and keep my parents happily married. As sims its so nice (yes horrible nausiating) to see them kissy and huggy and much to my love of keeping dinner down, they want to woohoo <b>all the damn time</b> (for you non simming people, woohoo his the sim version of sex. Thank god you actually have to <i>try</i> to have a baby, cause OMG I would have me plus like ninety siblings by now, my mom would not have made it out of college.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, they are so happy and a part of me want to play it out and not have their relationship degenerate to the point where they need lawyers to simply decide who takes me school shopping where and when. (This didn't really happen. In actual reality my dad became the king of deadbeat dads at one time choosing his step children over me and lying saying that he realized when he left my mother he was killing all chances of a relationship with me. <b>aside: I was freaking six, all I knew was that my daddy wasn't living at home with me anymore. I went to therapy because I thought I was the only kid in the world whose daddy didn't love her. I think he could have saved that one. I <i>lived</i> for our few outings. He didn't sacrifice <i>anything</i>, he <i>threw</i> it away.</b>

Sorry, don't you love those little tangents of mine?

The last time I did this, I let them split up and the result was sim me was waaaay more screwed up than actual me is. The second time I split them up sim me was was awesome. The first time I kept them together, my sim achieved nothing and was so screwed up that even when my sim husband carried on a long term affair with the woman down the block including having multiple children with her, adult sim me was furious with him but effing in love with him literally <b>ALL</b> her wants were pleasing him and all of her fears were him dying marriage breaking up and death of her dad. The second time I let them stay together, I was an awesome person who not only dominated my marriage but made the choice to oust the ex. I <i>liked</i> her. So you see it could go either way.

Why is life so much more awesome in the sims? I mean its not the fact that I can control them or make myself super thin with long luxurious locks and grey eyes. Its just easier period. I build a house one that I love and we move in and everyone is happy and its all good. Or bad. But still very easy.

As usual my dreams will probably be in sim form tonight. I think tomorrow I will let them woohoo to their hearts content that I come into play. I think its time.

Well blogs and kisses, readers. I am going to bed. Whatever this is I'm catching has caught me and I just want to curl up and sleep.

Terminally Single and Blogging is signing off for the night!

<b>muhwah!</b>

Weddings and marriage

So I consulted a palm reading website via my phone and I discovered that according to my palm, I am due to marry again. Not only that, (snicker) I am due two more children. (Guffaw)

I kept telling myself that it was hokey nonsense but there was one truth I could ignore. It pegged my first marriage and children perfectly. My first marriage line isn't long but it has three lines going through it representing my children and the first line barely passes through it. The website said that this means that the first child was concieved before marriage and was barely into the marriage to be frank the site that this child is barely legal. J was born five months into my first marriage. If I hadn't pressured randy to get married J would have been technically illigitamte as I'm sure that given time to actually consider it, one or both of us would have seen that this marriage was going to be bad and would have backed out completely.

Anyway...

The site explained a few other lines in that section of my hand as well. There's a line between my marriage line. This apparently means a child will enter my family between my marriages. I don't understand that one. There's also a line at the top of my second marriage. I'm supposed to have another baby.

So where the hell is he? I've passed the stage where I randomly look and give up and get depressed. Romantic me has been gunned down too many times. I've been through the stage where I swear I can feel him. Pretty sure that was indigestion.

What am I doing wrong? I had a hook on one guy but I saw right off the back that to him I was just a booty call. My body screamed that this was fine. This was more than fine but my heart put its prevebial foot down and said no and my brain reluctantly agreed.

I am lonely. I'm sick of planning my wedding with no groom. I know nearly every detail about it down to the man who I want to ask to walk me down the aisle as it will not be my actual dad, it will be the guy that has been more of a dad than any guy I've ever known. I just want to see face of the guy that's going to promise before god to love me. The guy that's not going to stand up in church and lie his ass off.

Oh damn tears are coming. Well, beofre they get here, I'm going to stuff romantic me back in the closet to have here bullet wounds attended to.

Terminally single and blogging is going back to the sims where romance is easy...

Fed up with Facebook! (And people)

I admit it, I'm about to go into bitch mode and not for any 'real' reason. As a matter of fact this is probably going to come across to some of you as a whine. Here's a truth I may not have shared before: I don't really care if that annoys you. Ooops! Sorry my inner bitch is fighting to get out but if you look at the top of this page, (the blog page not my facebook page) it does say that this is MY blog and if you don't want to be bothered then move on.

Anyway, now that I've scared the men out of the room by waving my box of tampons like a flag (no I'm not ragging not that any of u need to know when that is happening, ever; it was a metaphor) let me continue.

One would think that with the movie the social network coming out, facebook would he one of the hippest places on the web and that people would use it as the social network it is, and maybe they are but none of my friends. To be very clear and fair, I have three people that post on my wall in response to ANYTHING I say. No I take that back, four. Four people.

Awhile ago I was outraged about the Brittish professor basically re writing Huck afinn because of the over use of the word Nigger. Uh oh go get the pc police I said the dreaded n word. Anyway, I posted an actual question about why people get so touchy about that word. For example its okay for blacks to fix the letters at the end and say nigga and use it as an endearment. We walk around all damn day saying what's up my nigga. But god forbid a white person say it in any form, we're ready to beat the hell outta him. Does the same hold true for whites? They want to beat the hell outta blacks for calling them crackers (something I have personally done once in my life and it sounded bso fucking absurd I couldn't do it with a straight face) but do they take off the er, replace it with an a and walk around saying, "what's up my cracka??" Personally I would stop in my tracks and laugh so hard I'd probably hurt myself. Anyway, I posted a serious question like that and one person responded. God Bless Sarah. She stepped up where everyone else was too chicken. When I posted about the professor only Robert responded.

There's the stupid shit I post. Jason responds to that. Love him so much for that.

There are the times that I let my romantic side out so that she can get shotdown in a love driveby meaning I suddenly remember that not one damn person on this earth wants me in anyway but a fucking friend and she starts crying. Bambi my love responds and reminds me that true love does exsist. She tries hard to reassure me that someone out there loves or will love me as much as her husband loves her.

Then there's the people that see something on my facebook and who text me. I love you to but if its not a direct question like "Where do I send bail money?" Then blow up my facebook. If it needs to stay private I will let you know. Nine times out of ten if I put it on facebook, its not private.

I rarely do private. Private is for people that like having something to themselves. I've don't the by myself thingbfor too long...

Let's not go into the people who would rather not use the world biggest social network outside of texting to talk. I am not a phone person. There's a remarkable large quantity of my friends who are still trying to change me into a phone person. If Blind Tom over in the corner can see that I would rather post on FACEBOOK that I'm so sad I could eat a whole cheesecake (again metaphor). What makes the people who actually know me think I want to use the phone shaped button on my phone which it still just as shiny as a new penny and talk???

I like my facebook. I like my texting. I like that faceless but still intimate connection. People that I actually talk to on facebook and text are special people.

But lately, my facebook has become a farmville notification machine. I can open my facebook for droid app and see thirteen notifications and get so bloody happy... until I see that they are from farmville.

Every now and then I wish I had never started playing that game.

Okay, bitch me is spent and sentimental me is coming to the surface. This may be a blogging night... we'll see...

Trying a new blog client....

I basically want to see if this works better than blogger-droid. So far I am impressed as this one capitalizes my I's which is something the other one didn't do. Apparently it also does my contractions... let's see if it makes do a captcha...