You have to buy Visual Basic?
I bought a book to learn Visual Basic. It's supposed to be one of those workbook type books. One that says, "now click here". I can do that. Imagine my distress when the first instruction was "Choose Visual Basic from the file/program menu." Now, I'd never looked for Visual Basic that way, after all, it's just embedded in all office products. But apparently it's just editor and not the whole program. I'm pretty sure I can still use the book. I just can't do the nifty things that combine different types of programs, etc. I don't have a wizard either. Oh well, I'll figure out whether I actually need that stuff after I get through the book. For now, I just want to be able to write the little macros in less than a week.
He threatened to do it. I told him not to. I told him my blog has been drier than my sense of humor as of late. I feel like grandma has shown up unexpectedly to find my house a mess and me in my holy pajamas. Since your here I might as well give you a little treat. A taste of the other side. Maybe it will explain how he found me. Consider it the equivalent of some stale donuts I would offer grandma.
My ex has been rather demanding lately. He e-mailed one day asking for financial statements. Then e-mailed the next day because I hadn't gotten them back to him within 24 hours. It took me 3 e-mails back and forth to convince him that I wasn't going to just drop what I was doing to please his little fancy immediately. Yesterday he e-mailed me to let me know that the kid's school web site is listing a Saturday as a day off. He wanted me to find out what day was really off. I didn't know so I told him to call the school. Now he's getting pissy because I'm not being appreciative of his offer to come down and visit the boy's giving me a weekend off. He says this after he ignored my request to purchase tickets for the boys early so we dont' get stuck with last minute fares at Thanksgiving. I also offered to lower his child support if he wanted to take the boys one weekend a month. I even offered to split the cost with him. Now he wants me to be grateful and helpful! This is the same man who told me a year ago, "I'm not your friend." The same man that only calls his children every month and a half. Well, I rarely even make the phone calls I need to make. He can kiss my ass if he thinks I have time to help him.
Have you ever been around someone that is high drama. They are always upset by goofy little things and there is no helping them. They don't want to be helped, they just want attention. Lord!
Boobs and belly? They're back and they brought their pooch with them. It's really not fair. Why can't I have boobs and abs? I'm too busy to run like I need to, but even if I did I would still be in the same dilemma. I'd just have no boobs or belly. I was wondering out loud to the man in the shower ....if I started lifting again and kept eating would I be able to keep my boobs and lose the belly? He replied that they'd probably get smaller. My flippant response was that they couldn't get much smaller.
Him: No, you'd lose the big ones.
ME: These ARE the big ones.
Well, I guess that's what I get after telling him he had stinky armpits.
THE HOMELESS PROBLEM IN SANTA MONICA I did not buy a house this summer. I refused to spend $300K for a condo. Instead I moved into a very cute apartment that has no dryer hookup, dishwasher, or space for a microwave. I spend $200/month more than my apartment in South Orange County. I have one less bathroom and there are mirrors ALL OVER my apartment. It's supposed to make me feel like I have a bigger home. I share my garage with someone who insists on padlocking the garage door with a 5 pound lock and no garage door opener. But it's a very cute apartment. I can deal with it.
What I have a hard time swallowing is the fact that it is not illegal to loiter in my city. Some homeless person is welcome to set up a tent on my sidewalk and say he lives at the same address I do. This pisses me off for several reasons. First of all, it just gives me the willies that some person who is probably dying of dsyentary and alchoholism is camped out on my sidewalk. I'm just not humanitarian enough to let the goodwill overpower my willies. I have been stalked, I have been beaten. I realize that there are wierdos out there that drive lamburghinis. But I also know that crime breeds filth. You take a persons dignity away from him and he will most likely lose his morals.
More importantly, by paying rent, I pay property tax. Property taxes built the sidewalk. Property taxes paid for the parks that are infested with more bums than squirrels. Property taxes pay for the meter maids that give me a ticket for parking in front of my own house. How come it's all right to sleep on the sidewalk but not park my car on an extra wide suburban street? I work for my money. I work for my address. I do not work to build sidewalks for a drunk to sleep on.
This is a city problem. The same city voted to only allow one phone service provider in the area. I wonder what the people in this city were thinking, and why his issue hasn't been rethought. There has to be a major point I am unaware of. I certainly believe that there needs to be somewhere for the homeless to rest. God knows it may be me one day. I don't know what the solution is. I just know I don't want them sleeping on my doorstep.
Yesterday was Greggory's first football game. He has loved his first two weeks of practice. I watch the team gather around the coach. They don't seem to be doing much of anything. I watch Greggory look around at the other boys, notices that no one on the other team has tucked in their shirt and proceeds to untuck his shirt. I wonder about the differences in my two children. Greggory decided in first grade that he would no longer wear polo shirts "because buttons are for first graders", is constantly pulling his pants down as low as possible, and spray painted his bike helmet black because he didn't like the motorcycles already there. Brylan on the other hand seems to have no sense whatsoever in how to dress himself. He manages to put everything on backwards every morning. This includes socks, shoes, shirts, and pants. Actually the pants aren't backwards, they're sideways with the waistband rolled under. He always has a dirty face and only recently learned to lift the toilet seat before he peed.
When people meet my children they always say how much they look like me even though I'm pretty sure that's because we're all blonde and blue-eyed. I figure they had no choice. They're dad is too. But the personality traits, they're all mine. Even these seemingly vast ones. It isn't surprising to find me wearing the size sticker on my brand new pants to work or wearing my sweater inside out. There's always that one curl that is point up instead of down. Yet when I was a child I would throw a fit if my mom made me wear any other color of panty hose besides nude (yes, I had to wear hose every Sunday).
Whenever Gregg pulls one of his independent stunts we know that he gets it from me. Bound and determined to do it his way, I can only smile and nod. I know most mothers would worry, but I can't. I'm so proud of him. And every time I tell Brylan his shoes are on backwards I only hope that I'm half as cute as him.
