Psyche Ward, here I come...

Longest week EVER. I am thisclose to voluntarilly admitting myself into the nearest mental health facility. Hell, I can't even remember the last time I peed by myself. Taking a shower this week has been a joke, because somebody got hurt or broke something by the time I got out, and I don't even take long showers. Getting dressed this week? FORGET IT unless I had every child and animal in the room with me, one of them going "OH, no were DAT, Mama. NONONO I WANT THAT MAMA!" and then when I finally get dressed and feel good about myself the 40 year old kid comes home and goes "Huh, I don't like those shorts."

Or cleaning the livingroom, going in to clean the kids room and when I come back out 95 (I counted them) books are pulled off the library and sprawled across the floor. I just finished ordering a 20 dollar book for my sister since the dog ate the one she lent me with my 23 dollar Avon profit.

The dog also ate another official looking piece of paper and by the time I recovered three small pieces I realized it was my birth cirtificate. I don't even know how that happened.

Moo is on another growth spurt, is eating a bottle an hour and won't let me put him down. The kid's twenty pounds so that ain't easy, but at least I'll have some muscle soon enough. The dog learned to climb onto the counter and got a hold of and poked holes in the nipples of both his bottle and sippy cup, so feeding is now rather messy, if not completely impossible.

I sweep, and ten minutes later someone stops by and tracks mud all over because it has been raining every other day the past three weeks, so I sweep again and someone else comes over, heading into the kitchen before I have the time to say "GOD DAMNIT STOP YOUR BOOTS ARE MUDDY!".


Finally, 15 minutes ago I say THAT'S IT! and go to my bar. The only thing left is enough Baileys ("Mommys Chocolate Milk") for one drink, so I pour it over some ice, grab my aviators, a cigarette, and take Ma and the dog out on the deck.

I bring the glass to my lips and Ma screams because the dog took her blanket. I robotically retrieve it, sit down, bring the glass to my lips again and more screaming. The dog squeezed through a hole in the gate. I immiediately jump up and get her from the backyard before she scales our fence and heads to the neighbors for some action like the ho bag she is, and come up the steps just in time to see Ma walking into the rail because she was busy looking through her brand new binoculars.

My glass is on the rail.

Now, picture this in slow motion. Glass teeters, Me, with dog in my arms dives forward with a NOOOOO!....

And it falls, contents immediately seeping out into the woodchips below.

I didn't even get to taste it.

Generous Ma says "Oops, sowwy, I make you a new mommy chocolate milk."

I cry.

TGIHOLYF people.

Little April Rose and Beccah Buewhatever

Let's get serious a minute and talk about a REAL winner in the Blogging World. *Sarcasm*.

Beccah Beushausen of Mokena, Illinois. -- Or previously known as "April's Mom" or "B". Over the last month or so this crazy bitch concocted a story about her unborn daughter she named April Rose, claiming she was diagnosed in utero with Trisomy 13, and even though the doctors wanted her to terminate she was refusing to do so.

Thousands of people followed the blog at the edge of their seats. She constantly mentioned how Christian she was, throwing eloquent bible quotes in every other post, and then providing a PO Box for cards and donations. On the hunt for more hits, she then posed as other bloggers, such as resolved2worship, inhistightgrip and mamarebeccah", and left comments all over the blog world claiming she gave donations to "Little April Rose", and then provided the link to her own blog.


Miraculously, last week she made it full term, and then blogged about a homebirth, how April was breathing, her heart rate was going up and down, ect, ect. Then she made her biggest mistake by posting a picture of her "baby".



The baby was obviously a doll.


People flipped, the blog disappeared and the Internet world was sent reeling. People who prayed for her, donated money and gifts to her, and families who actually lost living breathing children of their own were touched and then horrified when her blog forced them to relive their own losses. Days went by and no one heard anything until she suddenly reopened her blog with a long, rambling apology.




BUT, it wasn't an apology. Those who actually sat through and read it realized it immediately. She isn't sorry for what she did, nono. She is sorry for getting caught. She claims she never received money, that is an impossibility considering the thousands of wonderful people who were duped. She claimed she wasn't looking for our sympathy, but then said she did it because she lost children of her own. That also ended up being a lie.




She was interviewed by the Chicago Tribune, who helped her paint an abstract picture of a poor sweet social worker who lost her son after birth in 2005, who shouldn't be held responsible for her actions because "she didn't understand what she was doing." Her ramblings were again littered with bible quotes to further paint a picture of innocence. In reality, she is an artist who miscarried in 05 and is now using it as an excuse for her actions, though the reporter for the Tribune was either duped or a cousin of hers.


That's the main story in a nutshell. Many other bloggers banded together and did their research, compiling it into this awesome place: http://exposetrolls.blogspot.com/ Good job guys!


Beccahs "apology" can be found here: http://littleoneapril.blogspot.com/





Well as for you Beccah, here is what I have to say about that. That was not an apology, you are not sorry for hurting all those people, accepting their sincere prayers, gifts and money. You want us to see a deranged, innocent, distraught mother who lost children. We see a deranged, intelligent student with a Graphics Design business (Ironically dubbed "See Through Me") garnering attention for your business and profit. Not a social worker, not someone who has a lost a child in the sense thousands of people you have hurt had. Your Damage Control isn't cutting it with most of us.

You are an artist, and eloquent writer who went through great lengths to get the attention you think you deserved for your talent. Your blog is so long winded it's more like a grand curtain call a love-hate villain gets at the end of a play, a narcissistic pat on your back, rather than something truly heartfelt and sincere. I will give you an Oscar before I would give you any support or the benefit of forgiveness.

There are people in this world who have suffered losses much greater than yours, and you are still kicking them while they're down and spitting in their faces and toying with them now by continuing to spew your deceitful garbage. You should be even more ashamed now than you should have been last week, yet you continue to dig your hole and laugh at anyone who might believe you.

Those Yahoo Babelfish people must think they're SO funny.

I head out on my deck this morning for a quick cigarette and I see my neighbors little black and white mini schnauzer loose. Again. Since we all live about 8 feet from each other I figured I'd be nice and catch the dog for them, so i stepped down and gave a nice little whistle and "Come here boy."



The damn thing looked up, growled, woofed and ran.



Apparently I am not Dr. Doolittle.



But since I was still feeling generous, I went over and knocked on the neighbors door, and an elderly spanish woman opened it for me.



"Hi, your dog is loose and I-"



"Oh, me no speaka english! Jus Spanish!"



"Oh.. sorry. tu perro, um... uh. Okay."


"Oh perro? Si, mucho problemo!" and she held up a broken collar.

"I tapped my chest, and with some rediculous handmovements got her to understand that i will try to catch the little mutt for her. She gave me a Gracias and I left.



I tried again but it was not a success, the little sucker was quick. Alas, I still felt bad since I knew Aniumal Control would be around within the hour to get him and wanted a way to let her know I tried. That's when I had an idea. The internet! My computer knows everything! And I jump on and let Yahoo Babelfish lead the way.



I type "Your dog is loose and I can not catch him." into the translater and flipped it to spanish. What came out was "Su perro es flojo y no puedo cogerlo."



Now, the only thing I didn't trust was the grammar and I (Ha) didn't want to embarrass myself, so I hop onto a message board I frequent to see if anyone on it speaks spanish. I told them what I typed, then the translation and asked if that was right.



What I got for a response wasn't entirely expected.



"Nooooo girl!!..lol Your telling them that their dog is loose and you can't fuck 'em. "





.....



DAMN YOU YAHOO! Damn you to Hell!



The only solice I have in this embarrassing experience was the fact that at least I didn't go up to my 65 year old neighbor and her 4 year old grand daughter and told her that I couldn't bang her dog. I'm not terribly sure what could of resulted if I didn't have the brains to double check THAT translation.