My weekend with my 85 year old stepfather

Oh. My. Gawd. For a brief re-cap, I recommend that you go back to archived blogs and read the one entitled, "Helen's homecoming" to get the full effect of what I went thru last weekend.

I haven't seen my step dad, Jack in 4 years. He didn't stay with me then, he just blew into town for a few hours, then drove back to my sister's house, 2 hours away to stay with her. Because that particular sister is a crazed lunatic, he chose to stay with me this time.

I was so excited. I hadn't seen him in ages. I went grocery shopping and bought all of his favorite things. I was anxious for his visit because I wanted to see him, but also because I looked forward to being close to him because he reminds me of my mom. I was so hoping that his stay would bring on a 'presence' from my mother. I thought, if ever she'd decide to 'visit' me, now would be the time. As it turns out, she has waayyy better things to do than 'visit' me while her widowed husband was here. She was all, "hell, I put up with his crap for 18 years, you can deal with it for a weekend. Peace out".

I should probably preface the following paragraph by stating that Jack, again, is 85 years old and basically doesn't give a hoot what anyone thinks about him. I find that to be partially embarrassing, yet partially endearing. I admire his chutzpah. I can't wait until I'm old enough to be able to say whatever the hell I feel like saying without enduring the consequences. Anyway, I should also mention that Jack gets very fixated on certain topics. He's a bit of a "one-upper". If you have a cold, he has meningitis. You get the idea. Whatev. He's earned the right. He's 85 for Christ's sake. So, I've learned that there's certain topics that you can NOT mention. Unless you want to die a slow death.
1. cars
2. music
3. health
4. abortion
5. religion

If you should happen to own a car with a fancy name, be it a Porsche, BMW, Mercedes, Saab, Cadillac, Lincoln, etc. etc... He'll tell you for no less than 3 hours why his (taurus, malibu, sonata) is superior. Trust me on this one.

He believes any music made after the big bang era is worthless. Don't even go there.

If you've ever suffered from any sort of disorder or disease, he's already had it---and worse. So don't bother

If you should ever bring up your stand on abortion (pro life) he'll immediately ask you how many unwanted babies you're going to adopt. It's the same schtick every time. He is very pro-woman & very pro-choice and he is very vocal about that fact. Gotta love it. However, he lives in the deep South and one of these days he's going to bark up the wrong tree with regard to his stand on being pro-choice. I can't believe he hasn't been shot yet.

Religion. Oh, where do I begin? OK, Jack is a non-practicing Jew. He believes that anyone who remotely practices religion has been brainwashed. You cannot dispute this with him. I've learned. This is why I keep him away from my in-laws. And my husband. And my children. And the general public.

OK, so are you getting the general jist of things here? He gets very fixated on certain topics and you can't sway him. Very sensitive topics, I might add. You cannot differ in opinion from him, or he'll talk you to death trying to convince you otherwise. I used to goat him as a teenager. Now, I don't have the strength. So, after a few hours with him, I just started treated him like one of my children and I tuned him out. God love him.

Here are some of jack's famous expressions (I've known Jack since 1985 and trust me, these sayings have been incorporated into each and every conversations he's ever had):

Dig you later----his goofy way of saying, "see you later".

I told you I loved you, now get the hell out---his endearing way of saying "good-bye"

You're so good to me since the baby---he says this whenever someone serves him food. We still don't get it.

I said it and I'm glad--he always says this after he burps.

Says each his own---his wacky way of saying, 'to each his own'.

Dah Doo Day---he says this when he doesn't know what else to say.

She had freckles on her but, I loved her----another filler, for when he doesn't know what else to say.

I'm changing my image---he says this whenever he shaves or grows out his facial hair

You're still in the Guess Jeans fad---he freaks if he thinks I'm wearing a certain brand or label. He insists I only wear labels to uphold an image of myself. For the record, I haven't worn Guess jeans since roughly 1986. He almost had a seizure when he saw my son wearing a Polo shirt. I might have done that on purpose.

"Ya motha had great legs"---he loves to reminisce about my mom's legs. I think it's the only part of her he misses.

It only hurts when I laugh---I haven't figured out when or why he says this, but he says it a lot!

You can bet your ass he said each and every one of these expressions within the first hour of his arrival. He was just so darn excited to have an excuse to use them. Nothing ever changes with that man. For starters, how many of you know an 85 year old that simply gets in the car and decides to drive from S. Carolina to Michigan, just for kicks? He has XM radio in his car, he works it like a donkey, too! He emails, he uses GPS. The dude is cool. (a bit redundant and predictable, but cool). I swear, he'll outlive all of us. We don't really think he's human. We think he has a laundry list of expressions, like a robot and he just uses them interchangeably.

Anyhoot---now go read "Helen's Homecoming"....just for kicks. She's an oldie, so you'll have to go back quite a bit into the archives.

Ima bounce.
LB

random thoughts & observations

I've realized I've developed tourette's in my old age. So, instead of blogging about a broad topic, I'm just going to randomly spout off about things that are on my mind. Hence, random thoughts and observations.

Rumor Willis. Is that the most tragic looking girl, or what? Her mother is Demi Moore and her father is Bruce Willis and she looks like..... a jalapeno. Seriously. Her face is the shape of a chili pepper of sorts. I can't put my finger on what makes her so incredibly homely. Is it her misaligned jaw or her bulbous chin? I've yet to win a beauty contest, so I really can't point fingers, but damn....her mother is the pinnacle of beauty and she looks like something out of a Picasso painting. It's just unfortunate, is what it is. Bless her heart.

Also, along those same lines, let's talk about Sam Bernstein and the entire Bernstein clan. I'll recap for any of you who don't know who Sam Bernstein is. He is the malpractice/slip & fall/personal injury attorney guru. He spends a gazillion dollars every year on advertising. When he was just Sam Bernstein, he had made an impressive name for himself---he should have left it at that. But, his three children decided to become lawyers and go into the family biz. You have never, and I mean never, seen such unattractive children....all belonging to one man. My God. There's two sons and a daughter. Each one more homely than the next. One of the boys is totally cross eyed and has a terrible lisp. Unfortunate, indeed! Sam, himself isn't exactly good looking, but he's not God-awful, either. Whatever genes he and his wife share.....clearly don't mix well. Do me a favor....google them. Just for kicks.

Do Asians joke that all Whites look alike?

Family Guy. Ok, I spent 5 or more years poo pooing that show because I was certain that nothing good would come from an adult cartoon. I couldn't have been more wrong. I love that show, beyond words can express. I realized that people (myself included) who claim they don't like the Family Guy, are simply too stupid to get the Family Guy. It's brilliant. The references are what make it so absolutely hilarious. Feel free to leave me comments about your favorite Family Guy episodes.
Well Owe-Right.

Giggity, giggity. Giggity-goo.
~Leslie

pretty sure I wouldn't like my kids if I'd just met them on the streets.

Gasp) Oh. NO. She. Di-int. Oh yes I did. What? It's true. I'm not 100% positive that I would take an immediate liking to the boys if I just met them. I mean, they're cute and all... but I'm not one to gush over children, just for being cute. Unless they're babies, then I'll just about burst an ovary. I'm silly over babies...silly. Which is why I got my tubes tied immediately after giving birth to my second. I'm a baby-lover. Just not a 'kid-lover', per se. The baby part, I would gladly do, 100 times over. But, once they turn one, I have little use for them. And then I'd have to abandon them. It was best to nip that in the bud when I had the chance. Thank you Dr. Van Slooten.

OK, so why I wouldn't be madly in love with my kids if I met them on the street. Well, for one thing, they're really, really whiny. Another thing is that they ask for stuff..constantly. You can't be anywhere with them without being hit up for something; candy, a hammer, a donut, paint thinner (we're at Lowe's a lot). Another thing is that their ubiquitous interrupting gets in the way of my A.D.D. Ever try writing out a grocery list while listening to, "mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom"? It's torturous.

And yet another reason I'd err on the side of dislike upon meeting my kids, they're quite selfish if you want to know the truth. I'm told that it's just the nature of a child to be selfish, but I say, "F-that". Very self-centered, those two. The whole world revolves around them, you know. Never mind that you have a migraine, woman--I NEED BATTERIES FOR MY WII REMOTE AND I NEED THEM NOW. Um, mom, I'm not as concerned with your asthma attack am I am with the fact that you're hyperventilating while iCarly is on. Oh, the police are here to take you away? Yeah, can you make sure you've warmed up my dinner before they do? Thanks, hon". I'm absolutely positive this is how the inner dialogue goes in my 7 year old's head. Except, not so much in his head, but out loud.

And furthermore, my kids are brutally honest. They'll straight up tell me I'm hideous, on a regular basis. Well, the 4 year old thinks I'm beautiful...(but then again, he thinks Santa comes at Halloween, so there you go). I was playing I-spy with the 7 yr old on Sunday. He says, "I spy some thing white". I offer, "my laptop? my pajama bottoms? my teeth?" No, I'll give you a hint, he says. It's the biggest thing in this room, he tells me. I try to make him laugh so I say, "my thighs? They're big & white". He thinks about it and says, "well, on second thought---it's the 2nd biggest thing in the room. It's the ceiling". Bastard. (I will admit though, I admired his quick wit. I just love a smart ass).

So, let me ask you, would YOU befriend someone who was whiny, greedy, selfish and critical? I didn't think so. They really are darling once you get to know them. It wasn't always like that. It was pure love at first sight [when they were born]. But, then they began to talk and it all went downhill from there. I think that's why God makes them so stinking irresistible when they're born. (if they were born assholes, there'd be a lot unclaimed babies at the hospital) I don't think it will be like this for long either. Knowing what a sarcastic prick Ben can be----just imagine what he'll grow into!!! Oh, I can hardly wait!!! (I'm being totally serious--who doesn't love that guy)? Judging by what they're like at this age, I'm totally confident that we'll all be thick as thieves when they're older. Once they start making their own money, and when they don't feel the need to speak every-single-thought that filters through their brain, I think the boys and I will get along just fine.
:-)

Rockie the Ram

So my son brought home Rockie the Ram from his preschool. It's the Rockford Ram mascot stuffed animal. Rockie visits the home of the preschoolers and the moms document Rockie's adventures in...guess what.....a scrap book.

You might be thinking, but Leslie, you've already blogged about this when your older son brought home Koko last year (see: adventures with Koko). No, this is an entirely different story all together. Koko was a freak.

I love how Rockie travels from house to house while the Swine flu is in full swing. You know I lysoled the hell out of Rockie before allowing him to enter my home. So, for the first 24 hours of Rockie's stay with us, he remained in the backseat of my car. Oops, sorry Rockie!

I went out to get him today, just to see if there might be any work on my part, where it pertains to Rockie. That's when I opened the backpack and saw the scrap book. I thumbed through it, oh yes. It's a scrap book, alright. Printed out pictures of happy families, schlepping Rockie all over Hell's half acre. Rocky at the museum. Rocky at the Grand Canyon. Rocky in Bangkok. Rocky in the Red Light District. Each mother (I assume it's the mother) took the time to articulate Rocky's journey, through a photo diary. Jeezus. Who's got time for this? Who, I ask?

Cripes. Oh, and here's the kicker. Guess how long each family gets to keep Rocky? 2 days. That's it. So, you tell me, how in the Sam Hill did you get from Michigan to the Grand Canyon, back again and have time to scrap book about it in 2 freaking days? Only in Rockford. Only in Rockford would you find such overzealous mothers. Oh, you'd have thought these mothers all worked as editor in chief at Vanity Fair the way these pages were laid out. Ridiculous, I tell you.

Allow me to give you a run down of how Rocky's adventures were captured at my house. First, after being severely neglected for 24 hours, Rocky got to go to the grocery store with us. See Rocky picking out bananas. Then, Rocky went to pay our association dues. See Rocky at the Bella Vista offices? Then Rocky was once again forgotten and left in my purse. Guess what I did that night? It was Thursday and as many of you mommys know, Thurs. is usually girls' night out. I had a writer's meeting for the tv show that I write for and afterward, I met some girls for a cocktail. When I reached into my purse to grab my celly, I saw little Rocky staring up at me. So, Rocky sat atop the table and listened to 4 girls chat about life, sex, those damn kids, lazy husbands and stretch marks. Rocky's innocuous smile was turned into a surprised "O" face. We embarrassed him. We didn't mean to, but girl talk is girl talk. Rocky and I paid our bill and went home. I realized that Rocky was due back at preschool the next morning, so I quick printed out pix of Rocky and I getting our drink on (along with the other wondrous trips we'd taken that day) and slapped them into the book. I detailed the events with a bic pen. This, coupled with my last entry (about the cookie recipe) should get us kicked out of preschool, for sure!

You know what? If I had access to a jail, how hilarious would it be if I'd taken Rocky to jail and then journaled that we were visiting my baby daddy? Oh, if only I had more time and resources. I could have taken Rocky to get mug shots. Rocky and I go clubbing. Rocky brings home an escort.... The possibilities are endless.

Domestic in Disguise

My 4 year old's preschool teacher sent home a folder with an empty recipe card inside. The instructions were to write out our favorite family cookie recipe.


Um, hi. Have we met? Cookie recipe? Oh, that's simple enough. You simply buy bake & break cookies. You break them off, put them onto cookie sheets and bake them. (Hence the "break & bake" part) Voila. Dessert!

So, because I crack myself up, I wrote these very words on a note and placed that inside the folder. I added, "but for the sake of this 'project', I'll play along. See attached". On the recipe card, I wrote out Candy Spelling's recipe for her 'thumbprint cookies'. Yes, that Candy Spelling. What? We're practically related. Therefore it counts as a 'family recipe'.

Ok. So I'm not part of the Spelling tribe, but I don't have any family recipes of my own. Don't judge. See, in our family, my mother was such a gal-about-the-kitchen that she didn't follow recipes. She just added a little of this and a little of that and every so often she'd flick off the 2 inch ash hanging off the end of her cigarette into the sink. 30 minutes later, glorious blueberry muffins. Me? Not so much.

Shut up. Why do you think they invented cookie dough to purchase? For busy girls, such as myself.

Candy, will you be my mom? I figure, Tori's out of your life, so you've got room for me. Right? Plus, I make wayyyy cuter grandbabies than she does. Think of me as a clean slate. I'll let you take me to your plastic surgeon and let him do to me whatever you see fit. I promise not to touch your dolls or write a book about you. You could make my kids their Halloween costumes, since I'm not so good in the sewing department either, as it turns out. We could plan themed parties together. And, my taste isn't nearly as expensive as your ungrateful daughter's is. I won't have the audacity to complain when you buy me my first BMW. I'll be the best daughter you never had. Holla!

~ Your Daughter
Leslie Spelling
(nice ring to it, don't you think)