T H E D A I L Y W T F

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Ass-whooping on a silver platter anyone?

I'm at work. That I'm sitting here in the office blogging when I should be working is, I'm sure, some sort of truly disturbing insight into my current state of mind and/or mood.

I don't even take a break during the day to eat. Nevermind sit in the office fucking around on my boss's computer.

::sigh::

But fuck it. That's right...I said buttfuckit. I've come to the conclusion that I'm not getting fired. Ever. Pretty much no matter what I sit and do on a slow Saturday morning. So fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.

I'm running on around 2 hours of sleep. Running is not literal, it is purely figurative since I can barely function. And the story behind my lack of sleep, functionality and just the general stupidity that surrounds me on a daily basis is....well, fodder for a blog entry.

My oldest son is not a bad kid. Of course I would say that, I'm his mother. But in relative comparison to, say, his step-brother or half of his friends, he is not a bad kid. That being said, he is also not the guy you want to fuck with. You don't want to dis my son, run your mouth about him (or anyone he cares about) and, gods forbid, actually put your hands on him. My son, generally, does not pick fights. But he sure as fuck finishes the ones he gets into.

I can count on one hand the number of actual fights he's been in. It's not like he's a brawler. But that's because his reputation generally wards off any shit anyone thinks they're going to bring.

Last night some fucking dumbass who thought it would be very 50 Cent of him to start mad beef with my boy on MySpace got his ass kicked. And 30 minutes after I'd fallen asleep (since I'd gotten around 4 hours the night before) I got woken up by my husband and told that M Dog got arrested.

Now, you must understand that as I was heading to the police station, I was thinking my son had most likely hospitalized whatever dipshit had gone far enough to bring the storm. But when I got there, I watched the other kid walk out with some scraped up knuckles.

Basically, it was two guys getting into a tussle and having it broken up by the group of shitheads who instigated it in the first place. Someone living nearby called the cops, else it would have gone down in the history books as one more reason why you don't fuck around with M Dog...lest you get your cranium bounced off the pavement a few times.

But this isn't when I was in highschool....this is now. So after listening to a cop probably ten years younger than me be a smart ass and make thinly veiled threats ("We know your name. We know you think you're some kind of tough guy." WTF??) I signed a release form acknowledging that the other kid's parents can definitely take my ass to court for the pain and suffering my child bestowed upon their child.

FUCK. ME.

M Dog apologized in the car on the way home.

"I didn't mean for it to be a fist fight, Mom. The kid shoved me. What was I gonna do?"

What, indeed? Because despite the current grammar school climate of "tell a teacher" and whatnot, the reality is that we're a day late and a dollar short as a society. By the time highschool rolls around, you either put up or shut up. Or, if you're like I was, fly completely under everyone's radar as best you could. Who tells a teacher? And in my experience with my son, telling a teacher only works if the teacher likes you. And only then if you're one of the school-wide grade point average boosting students.

Here's to hoping nothing comes of it. Here's to hoping M Dog stays the fuck away from that kid and his parents' house and their shitty little deli that no one ever goes to. Here's to getting some fucking sleep sometime before I die. DAMN I'm tired and rambling.

But most of all, here's to getting paid $14 an hour to sit on Diaryland. I knew I'd figure out a way to get paid for this.

8:25 AM - January 26, 2008

Ass-whooping on a silver platter anyone? - January 26, 2008
The Condom Incident - January 17, 2008