Friday Firecracker For the Fuck You Heart

Every year Todd takes the kids to the beach for the 4th. I hate the beach. (Pause for you to gasp...) I grew up there, I've seen enough agates and dealt with wet sandy jeans and I'm all done. Plus I'm not in love with fireworks. Endless intermittent explosions and a lingering sulfuric haze is just not how this mama parties down.

I was conned into going last year by my beloved little masterminds who insisted they would scarcely survive if I didn't come. I love watching them play in the sand, though bear in mind my previous exclamation: I do hate the beach. Still, a good book and a camera, and I'll make it.

Last year was extra special because this rotten urchin I knew, whose gaping pus-spewing facial orifice had really outdone itself a couple weeks prior, called me (as I had borne witness to her prize-winning sepsis) SCREAMING, loud enough for my entire family to hear, "I'm going to take all your friends and ruin your life!" Well duh, when you're fucked like that and realize you're a fugly square-headed venomous bitch that everyone secretly hates, you really have no option but to blame someone else. People were calling me all weekend, to tell me I was all kinds of fucked, that this bitch is crazy, will have you killed, watch out. It was like a mini mental pyrotechnic encore in my head, and each time my phone rang I'd have to jog to the old fire station to maintain a signal, whilst listening to numerous worried voices.

Obviously this 4th July I am celebrating two types of independence. The obvious one, and the one wherein I, unlike half of this community, do not have to clamor to be an esteemed pilot fish in the infected nostrils of the Dogfish of Darkness. Blech. Good fucking riddance you cancerous shitbag, my life is infinitely cleaner without your slug trail threatening to fell anyone you please, not to mention all the brainless filthy fucks who would sooner infect others with your poison than raise their own children or CLEAN THEIR OWN HOUSES! Chrissake people, your homes do reflect you to some degree. And these subhumans all need some kerosene and to just dwell permanently in the gills of the Colossal Cunt.

Okay, now that I'm back from that trip down memory cesspool, onto the domestic demands of normal people.

I am running a domestic decathlon these days. I've said it all before, but damn. It's not really the big things that wear me out though, like school, packing/lifting, and certainly not cleaning. It's the little things like, make sure to charge my phone while I: Start the laundry, load the dishwasher, wipe the counters, sweep the floor, grab the Windex for the window and oven door, hang clean hand towels (we're talking inside two minutes here people), wipe down refrigerator handles, straighten pics/coupons/drawings on the refrigerator, Swiffer, empty the garbage can, wipe out the microwave, rotate the laundry, separate bedding according to room, put in whites to bleach, hang my snooty ass clothes, re-rinse the bleach load, add it to the load in the dryer, take a picture of my empty sorter because when the natives return they will have hell of laundry. Full of sand. Goddamn the beach.

Meanwhile I've put two water bottles in the freezer for my nighttime foray into the adult world, sans Lysol. Phone is charging.

I made this list at 6-something am. I should be shot. I managed to oversee the packing, which they can do themselves, but I remind them re: toothbrushes, chargers, blah blah blah. Crossing this list off throughout the day has been like Ecstasy, especially since my first task was to clean the ENTIRE refrigerator while Todd was at Fred Meyer getting 25 bags of groceries. Did I mention I started uploading 40+ cds as I churned out this manic morning mandate for myself? So every four minutes or so, I'd have to eject the disc and re-format a new one. Yeah, count me in for chopping fire wood. Computer tedium wastes my life.

Folding all blankets, put one water in the refrigerator so I can have it with lunch, get lost in the cupboard and cut our cup/glass population by half. Anything chipped: Gone. Anything ugly that I was keeping for the sake of an in-law passing by: Out. Anything found in the back, given to me by that skaaaaaaaaaaankish whore who probably used my money to buy it, and then handed it to me with the hands she'd just pried off of that dog man who followed her sick domineering scent through all the years of her whore-a-thon with no shame, but nose down of course. Yeah, those may have been shattered on the patio.

Straighten couch cushions, position throw pillows for no one in particular, but it will look better upon return. (Have uploaded approximately 10 discs in this time.) Made beds, including the one against the wall, UGH! Read the mail and did not let it stack up. (!) Restocked all towels, napkins, polished chrome, took out all garbages, answered ...(checking)...71 texts, 12 more discs, computer froze. Gnashed every swear word I know at that computer, which I then wiped down, including the cords underneath. It finally perked up, and I sat and manually entered some compilations iTunes doesn't recognize. SNORE OMG. Sorted through kids' outgrown clothes. Again. Quinn skipped 18 and went straight to size 20 Levi's. His growth exhausts me.

Like, I organized nail clippers, mailing labels, paper clips, hole punches, and all those things that are amazing when compartmentalized and reason enough to run to a mental hospital when they're in some orgy in a drawer.

It is blissful to report that I got ever cd uploaded and my iPod synced for this weekend's adventures. Yeah bitch, I has adventures planned. Manic cleaning has a finite threshold before it's just insane, and I made plans. Dana, I am coming to test your good word, Sumu I am coming out there to tell you something, Jo, I need a new tree, this one is like some deadly nightshade, Jennifer, I will see you today or tomorrow or today and tomorrow, and Debe, well obviously you're driving, and we will discuss recipes and lilies and all things nonviolent, won't we?

I am unshowered. I will scrub the Ajax out of the tub/shower when I get in, and then this entire house will clean, plus I will have uploaded all the discs except my kids,' in addition to doubled what we already have set aside to add to the garage sale fever. God I hate garage sales, but I'm really good at them, and I LOVE space. Also, a few bucks never hurt.

Some of the scenery as I went kickin' down the cobblestone:


Man I hated this:


This shelf like fell a-p-a-r-t and I was all "Fuck you shelf!" And then fixed it:


Cafe clean and closed:


A living room fit for everyone to be gone:


Blankets folded (I love/hate blankets. I like falling asleep with one, but hate waking up with one.)


Made beds are for the win...unless you're a total soulless slore having sex with God knows who at all hours. Then I suppose it would be really inconvenient. But for me it's amazing:


So clean up your acts mamas (and papa), and have a fabulous 4th. Reflect on independence in any form. I recommend coconut vodka, and bad-ass people worth the hangover. Except I don't get hangovers, ever, so I go get the coffee and bagels.