Friday, March 23, 2012

I used to play with them...

"She used to play with us."

Said little Lily who lives next door. Beautiful little black girl whose family comes from Kenya. She has long black braids that reach the lowest part of her back, and long skinny twig legs that she uses to pedal bikes she's stolen.

Her family has always disturbed me but I try my hardest not to be judgmental when they would talk to me about their life choices.

"Oh, your Dad has 4 sister wives? That's neat."

There are no less than six kids that live in that house. They all have different moms who take turns either staying at the house, or at an apartment when they aren't all getting along.

"Hey Ishmal, I haven't seen your uhhhh...sister? Is she your sister kinda? Anyway I haven't seen Lily in a while."

"Lily and her Mom don't like the lady of the house so they stay at an apartment so she can have some space."

The few times I have seen a woman outside of the boundaries of the front door, which they leave open, she has pretty much sprinted from me. I tried to make conversation with one, since she was sitting on my driveway uninvited when I came out to take out the trash.

"Hi! How are you? I just made some cookies, do your kids want some?"

She gives me a look of terror and judgement at my cleavage, then says, "Dinosaur. In street"

I look out into the street for a stegosaurus and see her unsupervised kids, wearing shorts and boots without laces in the heat of summer, poking something lifeless in the middle of the street with a rake.

I drop the trash and run out there to save it, whatever it is.

"Ishmael, Lily, Franchuk, Kid whose name I don't know, Shoeless, get back. Move out the way. GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY."

It was a horny toad. A horny toad with a couple of rake holes in it.

"You guys need to not kill small animals because that is not nice. Here's a dirty spiderman ball I found in my garage. Why don't you kick it around in your own yard and leave it in my yard when you're done."

These kids need guidance. Always. They range in age from 2-9 and never have an adult around. They crave adult attention so much that it breaks my heart and makes husband with one T want to move.

They have no boundaries. I'll pull into my garage and hit one of them on the head with my car door because they come on in and wait for me to get out. If I try to take the kids into the front yard, they immediately show up and what was supposed to be a leisurely play in the front yard leads to me babysitting uncountable kids.

"Get your foot out of our pond"

"Get out of our garden."

"yes it's an Iphone, put it down. I just wiki'd something inappropriate."


Adrian asked them about the fact that they all have the same dad and different moms. One kid that's only there 1/6th of the time responded matter-of-factly with:

"I think my other Dad's dead"

When Adrian's eyes got as big as saucers, the kid looked at him like, "what the hell's the big deal with a dead Dad?"

Adrian walked over to me and sat me down to talk. It didn't last 6 words.


"Okay kids whichever one of your Dad's died, I'm sorry. Get off of my table and give Ellis back her shoes and go home."

Some days I would be in an extra giving mood and I would treat them like my own. I sat in the driveway with Ishmal and talked with him for 45 minutes about how hard it is to take care of the 2 year old sister(ish). I gave him a capri sun and played four square with them for 2 hours. I sang with Lily when she helped me vacuum out my car. I let them feed our fish. I gave them both the bikes that Adrian had outgrown and secretly left Ishmal a pair of new shoes because his toes were poking out the front of his other ones. (Even though I said I wouldn't. Sorry Husband with one T, if you read this) Anytime I make cookies or cakeballs, I tell Adrian to take some over to them. I've never once heard a thank you from any of them. Or their parents (maybe parents isn't the right word).

I get it that they're moderately annoying, rude, and inconsiderate but I really started to understand their evil when their Grandmother was there visiting from Kenya for the summer.

She didn't speak or look at me but sat in the garage all day sweating profusely and wearing more clothes than should be allowed in Saskatchewan, much less 110 degree heat in Oklahoma. She was terrified of everything. Which doesn't make sense to me because she LIVES IN KENYA. You're going to be scared of my guinea pig and some silly putty when you get malaria and lion bites on an annual basis?

She was watching another baby I have only rarely seen there, who is around 18 months or so. Her identity and relation to the homeowner are unsurprisingly unknown. The baby wandered out to see me when I checked the mail. I picked her up in the middle of the street and walked her back to the garage. Grandma looked at me like I had a machete and I tried to look kind and nice as I set the child back in the garage and pointed to the road. "Baby Hanna was in the street". She rubbed some sweat out of her eyes and spoke to Hanna in their language. Hanna kicked her in the shin and ran back out into the street. Grandma did nothing so I went to get her and at that moment the rest of the kids meandered back into the yard to play with my pitbull. Grandma saw Sable the pitbull and started bawling, shaking, and heaving. She was begging her kids to come in the garage, away from the animal. (Who, keep in mind, didn't even bark or get off the couch when someone broke into our house while we were sleeping.)

I was trying to tell the kids to go and comfort her and I would take the dog inside but they just laughed and laughed and yelled and teased the Grandma.

They went and got her out of the garage and dragged her kicking and screaming to my dog, who was now a shivering puddle of confusion. I screamed at them to leave her alone and let her go and ended up pushing them off of her and taking her back to the garage while trying to assure her in a language she didn't understand that the dog was harmless and I was sorry for scaring her and that I wasn't a raper.

Back to the beginning. Why "She used to play with us" was said:

We walked to the park in our neighborhood the first nice day we had this year. Adrian rode his bike and Ellis and I walked with our dog, Charlie. (yorkie, not pitbull). Of course there were 12 unsupervised kids playing at the pond when we got there, including the neighbors. Lily told me she loved my hair and sat next to me to play with Charlie. When Ellis ran back over to make sure I wasn't being attacked Lily hugged her too hard and knocked her down. So I grabbed Lily back by the back of the hair and rubbed her face in the gravel.

Not really, but I wish. Lily was oblivious to what happened and ran back to the dock. I saw one of her brothers holding a toy gun and pointing it at another kid, telling him to jump in the nasty disgusting pond or he would shoot him. The kid jumped, crying. A three year old brother was standing in the pond, in what appeared to be brand new shoes. Another couple of kids were in the trees by the pond along with Ishmal and I could smell more evil. Adrian was begging me not to intervene and to just let him play at the park with Ellis.

A 13 year old girl ran by crying and screaming she was gonna call the police. She was pretty and normal and I felt compelled to be on her side.

Lily ran back over and said (I swear) "YOU DON'T CALL THE POPO. YOU DON'T CALL THE POPO. THEY'RE JUST EGGS."

I asked Lily what she was talking about and she said they had broken some duck eggs they found in the nest and what was the big deal.

The 13 year old normal girl said they had done it before and her mom had bought her an incubator and she was able to save one of the chicks and released him back into the pond. But they had broken these eggs too early and she couldn't do anything to save them. She was bawling. She asked to use my cell phone to call her mother, who just happened to be the President of the homeowners association. At this point, Adrian was done. He gave me the look that said, "Fuck being nice, Mom. Give it to em"

I felt like I was in the middle of a made for TV Disney movie starring Debbie Ryan as the pretty young child egg doctor who would change the ways of her neighborhood and they would end the movie by playing soccer and doing a synchronized dance with the Kenyan terrors to a song entitled "We're All Here in America to Make Everything Better!".

But I'm Courtney Love in this situation and I don't belong in a damn TV movie and these kids were going to suffer through my judgment.


By the time I finished screaming incoherently at them, it was awkwardly silent. The kid with the gun stuffed it into his sweaty sweatpants and muttered that he was going "to put it away anyway". The kid who had been bullied into jumping into the pond whispered to me that he was okay and it was all going to be okay.

Lily and Ishmal looked at me like I had just broken our alliance and was now loyal to Kony.

Nobody was moving so I yelled at them again to GO.

Then I put on my batman backpack and grabbed my yorkie and followed them home like the badass that I am.

and that's why I don't "play with you anymore", Lily.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Five things I wish I didn't love so much.

1. The peppermints that my receptionist has at her desk.

I know for a fact I have multiple untreated cavities in my sad little mouth. For the most part, it ain't no thang. If I get a snack from Sonic and they put that shitty little starlight mint in the bag, I can laugh at their presumptuousness and then kick the carhop in the mouth. But if you give me an IHOP mint, or any other mint that has that sugary melty feature, I cave. I hope you know what I mean by the melty feature. Then I crunch on it and let the melty minty feelings soak into the holes of decay in my teeth and give me cheek aches for the rest of the day. It's like loving a man who starts out making sweet love to you but abruptly stops and starts giving you paper cuts on the webbing of your fingers instead.

2. Tuna.

OMG I want this shirt

Tuna and miracle whip and wheat thins are a delicious snack. But I don't eat them in front of ANYONE. Especially not someone who is physically attracted to me. Like, my husband. Hopefully.  In fact, when he got home unannounced early one day and I had a bowl and was going to town on some stinky fish mash, I felt like I had gotten caught with two underage hookers. I tried to garbage disposal up the bowl and immediately brushed my teeth of the evidence. Why can classy girls eat salmon but not tuna mashed up with mayonnaise? It's so delicious but so unbelievably disgusting. The few times I have eaten it outside of my parents' house (they don't count because they love me no matter how much vagina-smelling food I eat) I have just thrown the bowl immediately in the dumpster because it's not even worth cleaning up.

3. The Bad Girls Club on Oxygen.

All Reality TV is pretty humiliating to admit to loving. But the Bad Girls Club is on a whole new level of kill yourself. There is absolutely no point to the show. There's no challenge and no prize. There is no popularity contest or voting anybody off. It's a bunch of train wreck trashy girls who drink until they throw up and end the night by either making out with each other or pulling out a weave. I never watch it the night it comes on, but I do DVR it so I can justify it later in the week when there's "nothing else on." Really, Mary? Why don't you watch a parenting DVD or a documentary on polar bears? Contribute something to the world other than yelling "Awwwww that's a bad bitch right there!"

4. Wikipedia.

This is what is making my face look like it belongs on a sharpei on Medicare. I stay up late every night wikiing. I just made up that word. Feel free to use it if you'd like. I start with the random front page article, then I click on blue words to learn more about things like cork and the Sentinalese. Then most of the things I read I get excited about, but can't recall them the next day because I take sleeping pills and don't remember anything from 8 PM on. Which ends up being rough on my world since I don't actually go to sleep until midnight. Click here if you forgot about my ambien mishaps.

5. The smell of Laundry Detergent and fabric softener.

I have realized this problem in the last month. Somehow, in my old age, I have grown to detest anything that doesn't smell like laundry detergent. I hate floral scents and fruity stuff. It just makes me think of bees, seriously. A guy I work with told me I always smell like fresh laundry and it makes him think of his mom's laundry room. I was like, "eh ok"; That's not really an insult but not really the compliment you want to hear. My friend Kendal had alcohol one night, (hahahaha) and leaned on me and told me I smelled like cotton. Does a woman want to smell like cotton? I think that's almost the least sexiest thing a woman can smell like, only after a puppy. The final straw was when I had onions in my lunch so I turned on my scentsy burner in my office and had two people call and ask why it smelled like laundry in the hallway. My body wash, perfume, shampoo, deodorant, lotion, and air freshener all had something to do with a breeze or a fabric. I am vowing to smell more like a woman and less like Timmy's mother in Lassie.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Why I Hate Stupid Cats.

God, cats are awful.

I just walked to the gas station to get a bottled water and some sunshine and I saw a cat with his gross ears and asshole hanging out by a tree like he had a right to the earth.

"Don't touch me. Oh god please don't meow."

To me, all cats have scabies and scurvy. I don't know what either of those things really present as far as visible symptoms go, but I know that pirates get them. They just sound gross enough to belong to a cat.

I'm just too needy of a person to be a cat owner. They're so emotionally unavailable. Like they're trying really hard to be superior to me and my bullshit.

My sister has two cats and I have taken care of them when she's been out of town. One of them stays behind the dryer and hisses at me like it knows I want to drown it. The other one has assjuice. I'm not entirely sure what that is but go ahead and add it to the list of reasons that Jesus didn't intend for us to keep cats in our home. All I know is, the cat smelled like a mixture of gasoline and poop vomit and when I questioned this my sister politely informed me that it was just his assjuice and some had gotten on my shirt.

I instead choose Charlie, my Yorkie. Instead of assjuice, scurvy, scabies, and aloofness; he pees on the bed, has pink eye, and when I grumpily push him away from my face he casually crawls back towards me and licks me passionately and softly on the cleavage.

I have to have an animal that needs me to that capacity.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Daughter of the decade, except for '98

The fact that I have a blog entitled Just Inappropriate is pretty indicative of my openness about my personal life. I can only hope that my kids are as open and honest about everything as I was/am. My poor parents probably got a lot more than they wanted to hear.

Mom: Hey, 15 year old Mary. What are you and your boyfriend going to do tonight?

Mary: Probably go to church. I really wish we were going to have sex in a field, though. Damn you and your moral-instilling parenting love.

Mom: Good morning, 16 year old Mary. Where's your friend Kendal, is she still asleep?

Mary: Yes, but we snuck out of the window last night and talked to boys in the driveway.

Dad: How was your day?

Mary: There's a girl that says she's going to punch me, so I've been crying in the bathroom a lot.

Dad: Well, stand up. Let me show you how to punch her back. She may start the fight but you'll finish it.

Mom and Dad: We think you don't have a boyfriend because the boys are just intimidated by you because you're so pretty.

Mary: I don't have a boyfriend because I listen to show tunes and don't wear a supportive bra.

Mom: Your teacher, Mrs. Licthenhitler just called and said you skipped class today.

Mary: SHE JUST HATES ME BECAUSE I'M PRETTIER THAN HER! (sob sob sob sob cry)..................(sob sob sob).......................sniffle sniffle..... Okay. I went to the bagel shop with Greer.

I can remember on more than one occasion being super pissed off at my mom. She was SO SELFISH FOR MAKING ME GO TO SCHOOL WHEN I TOLD HER I WAS SICK. I would get out of her car and SLAM the door shut without a backwards look to her neglectful face.

2 hours later I have snuck out of class and gone to the payphone.

Mary: Mom. Hey. Sorry I slammed the door shut and didn't say bye. I'm not really sick, you were right. Are you okay?

I think the one and only time my parents didn't love me was on Oscar night, 1998.

I was 14 years old and has just gotten back from a free ski trip with one of my many fortunate friends, Kendal.

I turned on the water in the bathroom to wash my face, when I realized my face wash was still in my suitcase from my ski trip. I ran to my room to retrieve it when my phone rang. My land line.God I'm old.

Anyway, I laid down on my bed and talked to Maggie about N Sync, Mavi jeans, and Tyler Scheller until we had nothing else to gab about. I honestly can't say how long that was because back then, teenager talk just flew by. It was probably somewhere between 1 and 3 hours.  

After this socialization, I wanted some more attention. I decided to get on Facebook. I mean, America Online. Maybe I would have mail from someone or maybe someone would want to chat this up? I waited for the squealing of the internet modem and once I was connected I commenced stalking and typing for upwards of perhaps 1 hour.

My mom called out to me to come watch the Oscars in the living room with the family. I turned off the computer (GOODBYE) (that was in the super robotic American Online man voice). I swung my legs around and put them down on the floor to walk to the living room.


That's weird. Why is there water under the carpet? Did I spill something?


I ran to the bathroom, which was three rooms away. THREE ROOMS. Every step I made made a new puddle in the carpet.

I don't have to tell my parents. I'll just clean it up with these towels.

I open the drawer and the towels were floating in water. I had left the bathroom faucet running with the plug down for 4 hours. Water had flowed from the sink to the bathroom floor, through the hallway, flooded my bedroom and the computer room. I ran to my parent's bathroom to get towels and as I came back I saw my Mother standing at the end of the hallway.

Mary: It's okay, Mom. We don't have to tell Dad. Let's just clean it up.

My mother didn't say a word. She went back out to living room where the family was laughing, high-fiving, and just enjoying their wholesome evening of movie awards. She gave my father a look. The look said:

You're going to need to take the next two days off to get a crew out here to clean this up. You're going to need to replace the carpet in three bedrooms. You're going to have to go buy a new computer desk. You're going to try to salvage the carpet pad, but dejectedly give up and take another day off work to wait for the carpet people again. Your daughter is crying in the fetal position in her bedroom. You must still love her.

I'm not sure what the total damage was to the house, or to my parents love for me.

Mom and Dad, I hope I made up for it by not doing drugs and staying off the pole.