Chu Chu Chu Changes

Published May 1, 2018 by sarcasmica

I haven’t been writing much lately. Too many people I know read this, I think. I’m much more comfortable voicing how I feel about you when you can’t really hear it. I’m in the  passive aggressive subspecies of homosapien. We aren’t so good at the face to face stuff.

Anyway, some changes have been happening ’round here. Firstly, and foremostly, I got my braces off yesterday. HUZZAH! Remember all the whiny moaning entries about my teeth drama? No? I don’t blame you, I probably wouldn’t read someone else’s self-indulgent bitching either …. (but then what blog isn’t just that?) Well half the battle is won. The stupidmotherfuckinggoddamned braces are no longer. No more wires cutting into my gums/cheeks/lips. No more vice-tight teeth preventing my number one hobby-eating all the things. No more TADs breaking out of my jaw bone. (who remembers that little diddy?) No more biting my own damned mouth, resulting in subsequent bites because of swollen tissue.

Just happiness is what i’m saying. It’s all just happiness. The removal was less than I was anticipating. That was great. So great, in fact, my mouth decided to process for an entire day before it really decided it wasn’t happy. It seems the wrenching off the brackets off of the glue that attached them to my teeth did a number on said teeth.

To celebrate the 2 years of pain and agony, the orthodontist gives the newly slime-teethed a giant candy basket to celebrate! It is chock full of gummies and sticky candy galore. It made me wonder if he is married to a doctor that gives a discount for treating diabetes. .. or a dentist.

My kids were happy, regardless, and my son was a bit prickly that he did not receive such treasure when he got out of his braces. I reminded him where this all began – with the impulsively retired orthodontist he had who went out with a dementia bang.

I offered him to go back into braces to get the reward and he declined.

Also this month, my 2.5 year stint volunteering with man eating dinosaurs is coming to an end. I began in August 2016 volunteering twice a week to feed and clean at a parrot sanctuary with nearly 300 birds. That gig was the start of many amazing things for me for which I will always be thankful. I have always always always wanted to work with animals. Truth be told, in that dreamworld I would get paid for the work, but whatevs. I compromised and volunteered instead. The experience has been priceless. The bites have been memorable. The friends made have been unexpected. The growth and lessons for myself have been lifelong. I will still support them by taking photos and helping out with the Instagram account ( @zazushousesanctuary if you’re interested!) but my weekly obligation has been worn out. I feel like I can’t honestly say why because as stated before, too many people have access and i’d hate for there to be any blow back for my reasons. Let’s just say it stopped being a fun side gig and started becoming an unappreciated obligation by more than one party.

I will miss the birds, but I’ll be able to go and hang out with them simply to catch some hopefully great photos.

The next order of change on the docket is my child. Someone went and told my son that growing up shall commence. He will be done with elementary school in less than two months and he will be on to junior high school.

Holy hell, how did that happen?!

I’ll tell you how; with a lot of grief, struggle, tears, alcohol, diapers, helmets, braces, expanders, medication, IEP meetings, fencing, love, pride, and trumpets.

Honestly I’d love to be one of those parents who is like, “Wow, where did the time go?” But really I can give a detailed account of just where all that time went and it’s all marked by my well-covered gray hairs. Truthfully. I love this kid like nerds love dragons, (moms love yoga pants/teachers love medication/dads love bathroom screen time) but the time has by no means gone unmarked.

I have been in the moment with this kid since the beginning and sometimes I feel like he should actually be entering college by now, but no. We are simply staring down 7th grade. I’m excited for him. He has grown into a great kid. He has been a late bloomer what with his asshole parents moving him all over the damn western half of this country his entire life. I have earned every single nearly all of these grays. I take full responsibility. But I’m happy to report that he will be sent off to junior high with confidence, integrity, strength of character, some bad habits, and a lot of love.

The last change is making the choice to go back to work. Granted, the hiring deities are really the ones making the choice, but I’ve thrown my resume in the ring, so to speak. It’s been over 9 years since I was an educational interpreter. It’s scary to pick up my hands and entertain the idea of being the responsible party for a deaf kid to have equal accessibility to a classroom. A lot of the language has gone bye bye, but I’m gonna choose to believe it will magically flood back into my brain with the exposure of a workshop and some youtube videos. Sign language is like any language… difficult to maintain when not in use. Unlike other languages, it’s a bit hard to find signing practice partners.

So that’s the update for now… kids are around, homework needs doing and those cocktails wont mix themselves.


Yoga Awakening

Published April 16, 2018 by sarcasmica

A friend invited me to an 8:30am yoga class.

Cruel, right? Like are we really even friends, Becky? Is there coffee or bacon at “yoga”? What are you doing to me?

My plan was to immediately accept before thinking through the logistics. That way I was committed. Also, the timing worked perfect after dropping the maniacs kids off at school, so why not?

So I dust off my heretofore lounge pants a.k.a. yoga pants and tell them this is their moment. Right here, right now their destiny will be realized. .. and then I prayed the seams would hold.

I show up and immediately announce my noobness in using the YMCA facility mat. The stranger-sweat-on rubber washcloth that is supposed to protect my rhinoceros knees from the hardwood floors of the workout room. I doubled up.

So there I am, ready to meditate through my sweat and the instructor shows up. Now I’m not saying you should judge a book by it’s cover, but let’s just say I was surprised that our yoga instructor looked like a carbon copy of me fresh after the doughnut line. I was certain I could do this…. full disclosure: I have taken a few yoga classes here and there sprinkled through the last ten years of my life.

So we get started. First pose: Child’s pose. I thought this was hand on hip, scowl on face, and whining about how hungry I am for anything but what’s provided.

Wrong. Reality: Face down on stranger sweat mat, knees crushing into the floor and spread apart.

“Don’t fart don’t fart!”

“Now breathe”

One pose led to another and before long I was breaking a sweat. From holding poses!

The one she lost me on, however, was the downward dog. It’s not that I can’t do it, but my wrists were not having it. From DD we went down to a plank and then to “Baby cobra” pose.

I was imagining pirates and snake-filled islands as my brain was screaming, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Eventually I had to just give up on the constant pressure on my wrists and stand there like the shamed noob that I am. I was ok with that. This was the well-practiced “Awkward Wait It Out” pose I have excelled at lo these many years.

We finally get through all the warrior poses and archery poses and reach for the sky poses and we get to sit down again. THIS I can handle. Me and my doubled up funk mats were more than prepared for whatever came from these exercises.

Then every rude, judgemental, mean thought I have ever had for a fellow Lane Giant shopper smacked me in my sweaty flushed face. As we sit, the instructor – with grace and control, mind you – demonstrates the incredibly difficult double knee-into-chest grab, then extends her legs off the ground in front of her with her arms outstretched beside her legs.

There was no huffing or puffing. In fact she continued to call out the insanely complex Twister moves we are supposed to be hitting as she was transitioning her own body.

I assumed the Eat Crow position as I sat there barely executing 1/4 of the poses asked of the class in that moment.

As we were moving on to other leg twisting, spine stretching, floor laying poses I found myself going back to two thoughts. 1. Kick ass women come in all shapes and sizes. 2. I could sweat and stretch my ass off daily and I’ll still look like a lumberjack?! What’s the point?! (yes, i know. strength and health are the point, blah blah blah)

As we finished breathing and laying on the rock hard floor listening to the combination meditation/therapy session I realize I have a long way to go in mind and body.

Then I went to the grocery store and bought all the yummy things! … but made sure to pepper my snacking with an orange. See? Growth!


Making A Little Sense

Published March 20, 2018 by sarcasmica

Like many parents, I imagine, I get emotionally riled up after hearing about school shootings. I’d like to think that any human being would, and especially if you have children attending school.

Sadly, there have been so many that the numbness is now what moves me. It moves me into the anger and desolation at the thought of someone actually making a decision to load a weapon/weapons and walk into a mass attended venue and begin destroying lives. Where has humanity gone so wrong that this is a. an option for someone and b. it’s hardly news anymore unless the toll is ratings worthy.

Predictably these shootings bring forth all the gun protectors. Under the guise of fiercely protecting the rights of the constitution, people get all preachy and accusatory over where the blame lies. Admittedly, both sides tend to use the same tactics. Gun-protectors are adamant it’s the person wielding the weapon that’s to blame. Anti-gunners are equally adamant that if a weapon was not made available, the assailant would presumably be deterred or at least not inflict as much tragedy.

Lately, however, there’s some strange and dangerous new argument. “Walk UP, not Out” Meaning walk up to the loner and befriend them. Walk up to the outcast and include them.

I’m gonna go ahead and take issue with this. No one has solved the horrifying issue of something that we all took for granted before Columbine; school safety. Because we as a country refuse to work out a solution that suits real life, now the discussion is being dropped in favor of pointing fingers at the students who have been attacked. This is bewildering to me. Everyone wants a clean cut, easy to swallow solution that leaves everyone happy and satisfied. Because there is seemingly no way to make both pro and anti gun groups happy, the easier thing is now the focus; blame the kids. They haven’t endured enough being shot at, burying friends and teachers, let’s blame them for their own terror.

This is wrong on so many levels. I am having trouble articulating how many ways this is wrong, but I’ll do my best.

The outcasts. These are kids who are not just left of normal. They are left, down the block and a few dead end streets. Think of what mental capacity you have to live in day in and day out to actually carry out shooting up a school full of peers. It is not the responsibility of your peers to handle your mental state. Teenagers are not the mental health police for other teens.

Do you then, as an adult, take responsibility when a homeless person attacks another person? Did you go provide housing and care for that person? Surely you are at fault, then, right? Is society a factor in shaping an individual? Absolutely. Is it one hundred percent solely responsible for raising, molding, modeling and nurturing? Absolutely not.

If we are to expect that bullied kids become shooters, why aren’t all the shooters harassed, ostracized gay teens? Why aren’t they African American teens in predominantly white schools? Why aren’t they special needs kids with physical disabilities? These are the bullied and harassed kids. Always have been, and I’d like to think not so much anymore but that is supremely optimistic. It’s been a decade or two since I was in high school, but I think it’s pretty logical reasoning to understand these are the bullied kids across the board. These kids are not the ones taking horrifying action on campuses.

The individuals who enact these terrible crimes are imbalanced. They have been missed or dropped or pushed aside by families, peers, friends, and professionals. The blame cannot absolutely be put on one group, but it most certainly should start in the home.

Regardless of how these people have slipped through the cracks, it is in no way acceptable to think that justifies the actions of taking lives and forever destroying the lives of everyone involved.

If these individuals did not have access to weapons, it is logical to think that the level of atrocity could be very much lessened. There will always be the argument of “they will find a way, regardless” but you know what? We don’t know that for sure, and to use that as a reason not to enact change is irresponsible on us as a community. How about we change the access and then work from there?

I am marching this Saturday in support of demanding new gun control laws and regulations. We have to start protecting our kids and stop arming them. It’s gotta start somewhere, and I am happy to do what I can to help prevent any more school shootings.


VR u kidding me?

Published March 9, 2018 by sarcasmica

VR. When you just don’t have enough shit holding up your television set, VR!

When game consoles and controllers and amiibos have all achieved a layer of dust, VR!

When your children already have a healthy dose of sunlight fear and societal misunderstanding, VR!

When you want to manage a constant timetable of allowed VR time …say it with me now.. VR!

Can you guess what item has joined our family entertainment rotation? That’s right, Nintendo NES!

Just kidding, we now have virtual reality.

Guess which game my 11 year old likes the most? Job simulator. At least we have learned from the entitled millennials that have made living with their parents a nearly-but still not quite- acceptable situation and began training the up and comers sooner.

This game simulates thankless jobs like cubicle jockey, mechanic, cook and server.

This is how he likes to spend his short stints in a virtual world.

If we train them early to see everyday jobs as a game, what possibilities will this open up for the future?! What can we make next, virtual chores? Cleaning toilets with an actual snake! Maybe make a dishwasher a là Flintstones and make it a dish-licking dinosaur?

Virtual marriage- fighting over the budget has never been quite so interactive! Changing the toilet paper/paper towel rolls with a stick of dynamite?

Virtual taxes. clue how to make that fun, sorry.

The possibilities are endless!


Published February 28, 2018 by sarcasmica

How many pieces of celery cancel out a girl scout cookie?

If I cut the celery into smaller pieces, is it still considered one piece?

What if it’s covered in peanut butter? Thats a protein, right? It adds nutritional value, not more sugar.

Can the cookie-erasing properties exponentially grow the more celery you eat?

…asking for a friend

Tweendom du dum dum

Published February 20, 2018 by sarcasmica

It has hit. Tweedom. My kid is a tweenie. A tweenster.

He is 11 and the emotions and sass and backtalk and under-the-breath muttering and door slamming and behind-closed-doors cursing (undoubtedly accompanied by flipping the bird) has begun.

This week on Tweens of Our Lives the story line is sharing. Sharing and how it directly feeds poison into the brain causing epileptic fits complete with spitting and tears.

No, this isn’t a toddler, it’s a preteen. The culprit: Legos. Not the built, colossal lego set left untouched after fighting through the manual. Not the Minecraft built out level. I have implemented a shared lego bin from the tens of bins left untouched for over a year.

Evil bitch mom.

Apparently I don’t understand how special and important each individual lego piece in the dusty forgotten bin is!! Im a monster!!

It has been 2 days of bitter resentment and acting out over this fucking lego bin and I’m not ashamed to say that it’s causing me to see bins of colorful prescription pills instead of plastic interlocking bricks. I’m about to be committed over my nearly twelve year old son flat out refusing to see any reason when it comes to sharing without resentment.

*two hours later*

To his credit, after using props and trading places with his sibling he has finally conceded that my forced decision of a community lego bin was a reasonable one considering the amount he still gets to keep for himself. But only after a full out internal combustion, brain-imploding fit of nearly swallowing his tongue. This is not an exaggeration.

Stubbornness is a super power that runs deep in this family.

The Gun Thing

Published February 17, 2018 by sarcasmica

Freedom. I get it. Freedom is intoxicating. Freedom is invigorating and empowering.

I was raised knowing guns. My dad took me shooting when I was a kid. I shot a 357, I shot 22 rifles, a shotgun, a 45.

I am not a gun aficionado, I was a kid. I did not keep up with a passion that was my father’s. He owned guns, he bought and hid guns from his second wife because they were broke, but somehow my father always found a way to buy a gun. Child support was questionable, but money for a gun? He was on it!

So I realize that it’s easy for me to sit here and type from my computer that gun freedom is not a requirement of humanity. It is not an essential part of life. We do not need to hunt food. We can go to the store and buy chemically engineered food for ourselves, thankyouverymuch. But I understand the heated debate of the second amendment. I have family that are vehement about their rights to bear arms. The guns mean something to them. It’s a hobby that brings them enjoyment, so why should a bunch of tree hugging, granola crunching hippies be able to take them away?!

Because the freedom of that right is being horribly brutalized. There is no sense of responsibility among the whole of gun owners. There is no secret brother/sisterhood where gun owners communicate among themselves and make sure everyone is in their right minds. There is not a responsible overseer who regulates the mental health of everyone who picks up a weapon and loads it. There is no sense of community within the arms-bearers to take care of their right.

Unfortunately, the only time gun owners want to huddle and take care of each other is in the shadow of the possibility their guns will be taken. I have yet to hear about any movement of the gun owners to weed out their own dysfunctional members. They are happy to hang out to dry offenders and those that bring heat down on the second amendment, but zero suggestions on how to make it work.

It’s time to take ownership of the weapons you hold so dear. It’s time to take yourself out of the equation and look at the big picture. If i’m not mistaken the second amendment is about protection of state and community.

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed”

Militia is not an individual collector. It’s not representative of someone who likes to hunt. It’s about a community coming together to protect -under highly unlikely circumstances- their country and community. To defend our country against those that might try and take it from us.

Hmmmm… pretty sure our current climate has vastly outgrown the purpose of the amendment in the first place.

When individuals with questionable mental health can easily get their twisted hands on weapons and cause mass devastation of innocent bystanders it’s time to question gun control.

When mass shootings happen week after week, month after month, and year after year, it’s time to take hard action.

How will your humanity suffer from lack of a gun? How will your life be incomplete without access to a weapon? Is that greater than the thousands of parents who no longer have access to their children? Families who are now incomplete because a life has been taken for no reason other than someone with an imbalance made a plan and acquired weapons for no reason other than to kill innocent people?

Is your right more important than those lives? Now close your mouth and table your defense long enough to actually consider that any one of those inconceivable atrocities actually happened to your own family. Your own child in a classroom, or your own spouse at a concert or movie theater.

I fail to understand why so much effort goes into protecting the guns and not the people they were only made available to protect.

This country has far outgrown the second amendment principle. We have abused and neglected that right to the point that is is now destroying the cities, communities and people it was put in place to protect. Consequences must be had. In taking responsibility for the rights, you also take responsibility for the actions. Every person defending his/her right to own their firearms also takes ownership on the people who have used the same weapon to kill children, civilians, students, teachers, innocent members of the community.

Do you want to own a gun? Then join an organized, monitored, cooperative group of trained, licensed individuals who can also be responsible for how each weapon is used. Other than that, no guns should be permitted. At least until we have had a marked amount of time without tragedy related to a firearm. Don’t like my suggestion? Come up with a solution, not a defense.


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