If these cats don't freaking stop fighting, i'm going to skin them. I mean, seriously, the bitch cat growls/rowls/hisses at Skin Cat every chance she gets. The Skin has been here since JANUARY! Get used to it, bitch!! It's totally out of control. She's all, "Hey, Skin, let's play....oh, whoops, nevermind...GROWL!!!" They're in the formal dining room and all I can hear is hissing and growling. Sweet Baby Jesus. Enough already.
On my own, personal front, I still haven't found a job. I totally feel like a piece of crap. We need money; therefore, I need a job. No one is hiring--i'm beginning to think all these job postings are just to give us unemployed some hope. And then kill all our dreams. Bastards. I spend my days contemplating doing laundry, yet never do it, because i freaking hate doing laundry.
[excuse me while i go separate the animals]
I now take care of my own pool, which is kind of nice, except it's been damn near arctic (for Texas) the past few days, which just pisses me off. I hate cold weather, it puts me in a shitty mood. Can i just have 90s, please? I mean, come on, it's APRIL for God's sake. The kids swim one day, and the next, the high is 60. WTF is that??
I'm also thinking about what job I might get. Someday. Shit, if anyone ever hires again. I'd love to teach at the college, but holy hell, teachers are SO underpaid. It's damn near pathetic that the people that are building our future get paid what they do. It's ridiculous. On a college-professor salary, I can make my house payment, and possibly, my car payment. That's it. Screw the utilities! No groceries for us! And really, I wouldn't even be able to qualify for food stamps because I own a home and a car. So, the kids would just have to starve. I spent the majority of my high school and college years starving myself, so for me, it's no big deal, but the kids have to eat. Something about child protective services or something...
I also want to write a book. This is not a new idea for me. I actually drew out a storyboard back in good 'ol 1994. I have enough poetry to print a pretty good-size chapbook. I have two or three kid's books written. I have a few ideas spinning around in my head...it seems like everyone's trying to be an author these days, yes? For some reason, I feel compelled to do this, and I feel more entitled to it. How stupid is that? I guess it's because I started thinking about it at such a young age, and then pursued degrees in English Lit. Oooo...ENTITLEMENT. I'm a dumbass. But believing that I have that sense behooves me to do it one day. Again...DUMBASS. Everyone says I should publish portions of this blog ala Dooce, but then I just become another mass-published mommy blogger. That's not what I want. I want something full and literate to be published--not that humorous anecdotes about raising your kids aren't, but I want something MORE than that. Anyway...
Maybe I should write something about being a snarky bitch. Oh wait...that's my blog.
Little Bit aka The Munch aka Clairey doesn't go to the sitter's anymore. I couldn't fathom spending that money each month when I have bills to pay. She's going through withdrawls. Also, Miss Dot feeds her continuously; as in, she might as well just hook up an IV. The kid is CONSTANTLY being fed while over there, and i'm not talking veggie chips and carrot sticks. It's not abnormal for Clairey to eat 5 popsicles while over there. I'll go pick her up, and she's sitting in a recliner with a full-size bag of Funyons while the other kids look at her longingly while they sit on the floor with nothing. I'm SO not kidding. So, while Clairey's home with me, she's on MY food, i.e., yogurt, pretzels, coffee, etc. Dont' worry, i'm not giving her espresso--it's a shot of coffee in a glass of milk. Jeesh. Like I need to stunt her growth anymore. I measured her this morning--she's 5-1/2 and is 41 inches tall. I like to tell people she's a primordial dwarf. Although I force-feed her healthy crap, the kid just ate a carton of strawberry-milkshake whoppers. I don't want her to self-implode or anything, you know? Little by little. It's a 12-step program.
I think i'm going to go look at my laundry.