hypocricy

Nothing, I mean nothing bothers me more than hypocrisy. I'll cut a bitch over hypocrisy.

In my book, there are two kinds of hypocrisy: DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO: This kind of hypocrisy occurs when the [said] offender gets on his or her soapbox to proclaim their convictions with such gusto, but then has the nerve break their own rules. And then, to make it worse, they dismiss their actions with a quick & dismissive, "oh, well that's different". Ooooh, them are fighting words. I don't care who or what you are, just own it! Don't pretend to be a saint and judge everyone else, then sleep with half the town. Ya know?

Like this person, for example....she gets up on her hind legs and rants about cancer awareness and makes everyone else feel like shit for not doing as much work as she has on the issue, then has the audacity to blow cigarette smoke in all of our (non-smoking) faces. Or the person who lies, cheats and is basically a cunning, calculating, con-artist, but then berates someone for not sending a birthday card. (hypothetical, of course).

Moving on... WHAT'S GOOD FOR THE GOOSE ISN'T NECESSARILY WHAT'S GOOD FOR THE GANDER: The husband is FAMOUS for this one and it is often what causes me to envision taking a shovel to his kneecaps. This offense comes in all shapes and sizes in our household. I should preface this paragraph with a bit of background on the matter. He likes to pick on me. Not in a controlling, Lifetime Movie kind-of-way, but in a petty, joking kind-of-way. The man loves to point out my mistakes. This is where I've adopted the nickname "Luuu-cyy". Get it? My big Cuban husband (ok, he's mexican) and his ditzy white wife. He'll gripe at me for spending money on things that we'll genuinely need, then he'll shamelessly buy a Harley Davidson, riding lawn mower, snow blower, every single article of clothing that Harley has ever made, goes out to lunch every single day, buys the kids ridiculous gifts just for simply being adorable, and every other unnecessary trinket or tool that's ever been brought into this house that's only purpose is to make life a tad more convenient for him. Then I'll be like, "babe, I gotta run to Target and get a new mop" he'll be all, "WHAAAAT??? That's crazy, just use a toothbrush". Ok, I'm exaggerating, but you get the point. But it doesn't always have to do with money. It can come down to parenting, diet, chores, in-laws, etc... Hypocrisy in any form is a real touchy subject with me. As you can plainly see.

Anyway---in addition to my funny stories, I'll often use my blog to vent about issues that rattle me. Call it passive aggressive--whatev. It makes me feel better.

Stay tuned for my next blog about 'insecurities'. :-) Except you have to pronounce it
"in-seh-kurr-i-tee" Like Bon Qui Qui (my favorite You Tube video---if you haven't seen it....you MUST).

M'WAH xo

the 2nd christmas letter

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the REAL Christmas letter

What if our Christmas letters weren't the G-rated, glossy image of our families that we so badly want the world to believe? What if we just put it out there and weren't ashamed of our realities? I wish I had the kahunas to compose a REAL Christmas letter. I'd like to imagine that it would go a little something like this:

Dear Friends & Family,

Is it December already? Whew, seems like just yesterday when we hosted that golf outing to help raise money for Tom's bail. The year goes by fast when you're living conjugal visit to conjugal visit. We never did come up with his bail, but we sure had fun golfing that day.

In hindsight, it would have been smarter to put an honest person in charge of collecting the cash, instead of Tom's cousin who'd recently done hard time up in county. But, you live and learn!

This year, our little Becky graduated from beauty school. She's turned out to be a real bitch, just like her older sister. Which comes in handy when looking for a husband--not. We keep telling her that she's looking in all the wrong places, but she insists that the Mobile Gas Station on 44th street has the biggest dipsticks in town. Whatever that means.

Carl jr. is still in the 4th grade. We figure at this rate, he'll be able to drive himself to school by 5th grade. Sweet mother of Mary, the boy ain't right. Least no one picks on him. Him being 8 years older than everyone else puts him at an advantage. Knowing OUR family, we'll take all the advantages we can get!

We finally laid to rest our sweet Mee-Maw. Dang thing lived to be nearly 93. Well, we didn't so much 'lay her to rest' as forget to feed her for quite some time. We figured we'd keep her death a li'l secret....that is, until her social security ran out. We was livin' high on the hog for a while. White Castle every night... But that's all a passing fancy since our dog, Brutus dug her up and the nosy neighbor kid told his parents. Well, one thing lead to another and next thing you know, we've got the po-po knocking on our front door. There went that cash cow! Ah, it was fun while it lasted.

But, it's not all bad. Tom's parole hearing went off without a hitch. His release is set for 2034 and that's not so far if you think about it. Figure, he's probably learning some mad skillz in prison, more so than he'd learn out on the streets.

If anyone is wondering what to buy us for Christmas this year, don't get all crazy. You know we don't like hand outs. But Carl jr. needs a new mattress (he chewed his old one) and I could really use a carton or two of cigarettes. Maybe a bottle of booze (any booze will do) and a puffy paint kitty sweatshirt. That'd be real nice.

Merry Christmas!!!!

Ha ha ha.... I'm just kidding. That would never happen. This is more like how my Christmas letter would read, should I ever have the stones to write one:

Dear Friends & Family,

This year sucked. Jason works non-stop and I'm stuck here between these four walls for days on end. Jason tells me to find a hobby, but I'd rather just complain about being bored.

Ben continues to do well. He is a great student and a well liked kid. We don't think he's ours. Upon Jason's promotion earlier this year, Ben asked if he could join the local country club. We reminded him that we aren't "country club" people. To which, he replied, "WELL, I AM"!!!! He is well aware of the fact that he is way too good for our family. We think there's a grubby kid out there somewhere that belongs to us. But, we keep that under wraps because we believe Ben will be our meal ticket someday.

Gabe...... Um. Let's see. What can I write about Gabe that won't land me in jail? He's got the most darling eyelashes you've ever seen. He has a very healthy appetite, despite looking manorexic. His hobbies include eating non-edible things and that about sums up Gabe.

Me? Oh, don't worry about me. No, no, it's allllllll about the kids. It's children first in this family. Oh, I'm sorry, do you NOT speak sarcasm? No? Well, if you're going to live in my world, you really ought to learn the language.

The most remarkable thing to happen this year is that I finally conceded to the fact that I can't cook. I've suspected it all along, but the truth came out when I cleverly substituted baking powder for baking soda. Disaster ensued.

I've also upped my game where it pertains to hiding money from Jason. This year, I've graduated from hiding cash in the freezer, to actually taking out an additional bank account under my alias. Shhhh.

The high point of my year was my court appointed, community services. I'll just leave it at that.

The low point of 2009 was that nasty pregnancy scare back in March. Whew!!! Not enough vodka to smooth over that whoopsie.

You're probably thinking, "Leslie, How. Do. You. Do. It? You seem to have it all and you're just so selfless". Yes, well....it's the least I can do, for being allowed to live this lap of luxury. (help me)

Just another day in paradise!

Happy Freaking Holidays.

etiquette lessons required

So, I'm told that my husband has been invited to dinner at his boss' house. I guess my presence is expected as well. Who knew? Not me, as I tend to avoid these types of affairs. You've been reading this blog long enough to know that I'm not exactly house broken yet. Just for kicks, go into my early archives and read, "Stupid Things I've Said". Not to be confused with "Stupid things my husband's said".



Only the upper level management has been invited, which really only amounts to maybe 4 men (and their wives). I have been to 2 other company events----one was a Christmas party and my behavior was hardly noticed because I was lost in a sea of 300 other drunks. The second function was a company picnic and I busied myself with my kids, so I was somewhat able to keep my nose clean that day.



But these new developments have me in a quandary. Me nervous. So many things can go wrong. So many variables. What do I wear? Do I bring a hostess gift? Will it be catered or will I have to roll up my sleeves and help with dishes? Shall I except a drink if offered? That's silly, of course I will. What if I snort? What if it's boring and I yawn? What if they talk about businessy stuff all night? What if I hate what they serve?

All these worries could be dismissed if I were a normal person. But, I'm not. I blurt out indescretions. I don't have a filter between my brain and my mouth. I get nervous during awkward silences and that's usually when things go terribly, terribly wrong. What's worse, is I drink too much when I'm nervous. And why am I so nervous----it's not like I'm meeting my boyfriend's parents. Well, my husband has about as much faith in me as my mother did during my teen years. The pressure, the pressure. I'm scerred.

the holy trinity

Soooo, I'm in the car with the boy last night (the 7 yr old boy). He confidently tells me that he only needs three friends. So, I'm thinking 'what a noble statement that is for a little boy'. I ask, "who would be your 3 friends"? I'm imagining the litany of friends that he's likely to rattle off.


He responds, "myself, God & Jesus".

uh-HUH. Alrighty then. Great answer. That should put him on the fast track to popularity! I guess that gets me off the hook from planning a big birthday bash for him next year.

That's all. Carry on, then.

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For crying out loud, how self-absorbed can one person possibly be? In my day we just had diaries with gay little locks on them that your crazy sister could open with a toothpick and then blackmail you for 3 years about what was written in it. Just saying...