life according to me

life according to me

Silver linings and Butthole dragging dogs.

As Far As Today Has Gone…

What was annoying?

Getting up the second the alarm went off, getting ready for my first official day as a person who actually goes to work after a year (only part time) and is ten minutes late because of traffic.  Three miles in twenty minutes is a problem.  I am not someone who is ever late.  Ever.

But what’s good about it?

Not getting pissed off about it.  I got to work.  All was well.  And tomorrow, I’m taking another route.

What’s gross?

Realizing that the dark smudge and related four-foot streak across one of the only clean places left on the carpet this morning was caused by the dog who couldn’t take an extra minute to poop outside, so came upstairs, summarily parked her butt hole on the carpet, then proceeded to skooch forward using all four paws, removing whatever offending turdlett was hanging on for dear life.  It worked.  What a genius.

Where’s the proverbial silver lining?

Obviously not on the carpet.  But the image of the dog dragging her butt hole is completely, side-splittingly HILARIOUS even though the spot remover didn’t quite remove the stain.  The bottle lied.  I’m an expert at lying carpet stain bottles. And in knowing that she doesn’t have worms or clogged anal glands.

What makes me want to rip my hair out?

After pulling off a B+ so close to an A in Algebra II during the first grading period this year, the RT has systematically worked to destroy his grade (okay, so it’s a B-) by not doing most of his homework because he doesn’t feel like it.  He’s knows it’s more than strange that he’s engaged in this rather highly developed form of academic suicide, but hey!  He’s good at just not thinking about it.
Why do I grit my teeth, grinning to bear the agony of this revelation instead of ripping his lovely brown eyes out of his skull?

He’s in more agony about it than I could ever be.  Daily, he procrastinates, then doesn’t do the work and the routine begins again the next day.  He must love the torture.  Plus, he must love my rather lengthy and antagonizingly argumentative discussions about life and work and responsibility.  And the concept of beginning to look for a job now that requires no degree and a cheap place to live while employed in said fashion.  In San Diego, that would be a cardboard box.

And the bright side of this debacle is?

He gets this flat look about the eyes, like I have the calm audacity to suggest he will have to fend for himself in this world, and that he may not get it right.  It lets me know I’ve gotten through.  And then I get to tell him that he’d better figure it out because he only has about six years of math left to take in his life if he isn’t planning on the minimum wage job route.  It doesn’t matter that he most likely will NEVER use any of the math he’s required to take, but you can all rest assured that at least with my kid, the good ol’ U S of A will have a chance to compete.  You know.  Mathematically.  In the world.

Could someone tell Edwards for me please?  He was sweating bricks over it during the minute or two I listened to the debate today on NPR.

Oh, and the RT completed his math while I wrote this, so clearly it’s not challenging.

Like I said.  Torture.



11 thoughts on “Silver linings and Butthole dragging dogs.”

  • Oh yes, I’ve sung the “Dog-Scootin’ Blues” before! Last year, my sister in law brought her dog over for Christmas…the dog walked straight in, sat down & scooted it’s mangey ass across my carpet leaving a big ‘ol foot-long skid mark! EEEEWWW! Merry fricken Christmas, huh?!?

    Even though you hit a few bumps in the road, you kept a sense of humor – and THAT will get you through ANYTHING! 🙂

    PS: I haven’t forgetten that MEGA CRAZY 8 MEME you thrust my way…I AM working on it…promise…cross my heart.

  • your son wouldn’t be a pisces by any chance would he?

    you know lots of boys are just really slow to reach full potential. I didn’t expect my eldest to be a high achiever, he was pretty average at school and bummed around for the first couple of years of his working life… then out of nowhere he developed all this ambition and taught himself to DJ. he’s won 3 DIVA awards and played in germany, hong kong, singapore etc. and every big dance party held in sydney. a couple of years ago he decided he would need another career for when he gave up dj’ing so he’s a PA to the CEO of a financial institution as well now.

    my younger son has dropped out of university twice and just works as a bar attendant. but I think in another year or two he’ll get it together and figure out what he wants

    sorry to take up so much space with a comment but your post reminded me of how I used to worry about them being responsible and doing homework and studying hard too…..

  • what j-o-b are you working on – the grant?

    RT will come around… eventually. at least he doesn’t have the dragon teacher like last year – or maybe that was good for him to keep his butt & papersize in check! 🙂

    enjoy paradise – we had snow overnight and a blistering 23 degrees here in the midwest today. go sit in the sun at the beach for me!

  • Hey, meleah…the job is fine. I should make enough to pay for our medical insurance. Fun, huh? Kind of like when working to pay for childcare. Just part time, and blissfully, no boss-type responsibility. And no worries about that meme. You know how that goes. Bigger issue — when I try an comment on your blog, everything’s closed no matter how many comments are there (I’m usually one of the last to read and what a loser I am…) I did notice you got a new comment thing going on, so maybe it’s fixed?

    Hey Olga. At least the butthole streak on my rug belongs to MY dog. Exactly on the Merry Freaking Xmas. Or is that “streakin’? Bwahahahahaha…

    nursemyra — I so know what you are talking about because I have two older sons as well. I know they have to find their way, just as I did (still am!!!!) but crap! The only analogy that fits this situation is going on a diet, losing 50 lbs. and then eating donuts for three days straight or until I gain 25 back (whichever comes first.) Unbelievable. I’m just not wired to sit by and not ask what the particular plan of attack is called. Cool on your oldest. My oldest has just now gotten rid of a job that started out to be part time when he was in high school. It has interfered with everything he’s tried to do. But finally, he’s getting close to finishing school and doing something he’s interested in. I THINK.

    Hey Ritzy….I can’t imagine the cold. But wait for the photos, because we’ve got screamin’ huge waves and wind right now. And rain coming for the next four days! WOOT! And the J.O.B. is in an office part time. I know the partners in the firm and they need the help for their busy season. Nothing permanent.

    Chick…kinda gross, huh? But(t) hilarious!

  • I LOVE San Diego….which part do you live in (you don’t have to say on here if you are worried about stalkers). Is your traffic on the 5 Fwy? Cause I didn’t know they even HAD traffic down south, I thought it was all up here in OC and LA.

    My son is the exact same way about homework…he’s getting a D- in math and is thrilled that he’s not failing. Ugh.

  • Hey Barbara! You’re not too far from us. The traffic, believe it or not, didn’t involve a freeway. Just surface streets from an area of SD that you can only really get out of two or three ways. Sometimes, it’s ugly. I left 15 minutes earlier today, and there was no traffic. Figures.

  • I feel for the guy. Math SUCKS. Esp. if you’re Liberal Arts. You really, truly, unequivocally will never ever use it.

    But hey, yeah, thank goodness one more American will be able to match wits mathematically with Pakistan’s brightest.

    Something about going deep into debt has me wondering “so why do we take half these classes?” He’s only in high school though, plenty of time left to refine his jaded side. ^^

  • Dave, you are so my hero. But you have been…And yes. The math is STOOPID. It’s another scam. Another language. Another bunch of shit. I say take a bunch of mathematicians and make them paint. Or write. Or give a speech. Anything but sit in a room with other number fiends and live off of grant funding that produces books that no one reads. Well, maybe until the next millenium. And what difference does that make?

    And sadly, the RT is already jaded. Or flat eyed. If that’s refined, he’ll be able to start fires with a look. Wait. Stephen King already thought of that.

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