Category: Uncategorized

Hockey Friday

This morning, James left for school, dressed in his hockey jersey as I’m learning is protocol for kids on game day at his school. He seemed insecure at how big and baggy it was. He looked in his mirror and fiddled with his sleeves. I reminded him that he had four years to grow into it. As I said that, I wondered how much my nearly 6 foot tall, baby boy, could grow in the next four years. He grabbed a tie that matched and tied it before my eyes, talking about how busy his day is today. Three tests, a baseball workout and a 9:30 hockey game in Brooklyn. Oh and, am I going to his game? I said yes and cringed at the thought of getting home at midnight and having a full day of tours tomorrow. Oh my. It’s the first game though, it will be fun. I think. 😆
When James was in second grade, we were told to take him out of hockey altogether, and not him let him play contact sports, to go on a trampoline, a roller coaster… anything that could cause whiplash. Because of his Chiari. So we kept him away from this sport that he loved so much for so long. He was just cleared in August to play again. It’s been a wonderful relief for us all and he’s just getting his confidence back again.
He wouldn’t let me take his photo as he left for school looking as handsome as I’ve ever seen him. But he did look pleased that I requested one and even tried to sneak one. 😆 The time goes by so quickly, I’m trying to remember to cherish every moment. 💙💙

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Living his best life

Yesterday, James lived his best life. The first two weekends of freshman year have been freedom and fun filled. He headed over to the Saint peters game with a friend wearing his red white and blue ensemble which was the theme of the football game. He thought about wearing a second amendment themed American flag as a cape, and I was relieved in the end when he decided to keep it home. I’m not really sure what the guidelines are regarding wearing flags, but I wasn’t feeling it. football games are long, and when the game was over I was walking Penny up Henderson Avenue and happened to see him and his group of friends walking down the street. It was a nice opportunity to watch him interact before he knew I was watching him. He and his friends were challenging each other to see who could jump to touch the highest signs. It’s a bit loud and obnoxious, but it’s harmless. He had about 8 of his friends come back to the house. They waited outside and he threw them each a bottle of water while he went upstairs and changed for round two of his day. It was hot out. I told him they were all welcome to go in the pool if they wanted to and I would order pizza. He said they had other plans. I encouraged him to change out of his thick, American flag, polyester socks that he was wearing that went mid calf. They were making me sweat just looking at them. The heels weren’t even in the correct position and the toes weren’t lined up. They were driving me crazy. But he liked them that way. Then, they headed down to Empire Outlets by bus. Wow. At least they are a big group. I really worry about crazy people out there in the world. He called to ask me if it was OK that he treat his friend to lunch, because his friend had treated him to lunch the other day, but he didn’t feel comfortable using Apple Pay for something close to $20. Im really grateful he thinks to ask, for now:-) From there he visited his dad at the ball park who was working security at a NYPD/NYFD Boxing event. Then they walked up to Curtis HS and watched that football game! That’s a giant hill to climb. It can only be conquered with sheer determination. Ha! BTW thank goodness for find my i phone so I could track his many moves:-) They came back here hungry. It was supposed to be two of them but then they were six. I ordered just enough sushi to not break my bank but to give them a taste of something yummy. I supplemented with plates of nachos loaded with melted cheese and salsa. It was a true coming together of the cultures at my coffee table, on the screen porch. I tend to get so caught up in the future, or in the past, that I forget about the present. But I didn’t last night. I reminded myself that this is life, and it’s as good as it gets. Here I have a beautiful group of kids so grateful to have a snack, and they are here in the safety of my home. I looked around at all of their happy faces as they devoured their last plate of nachos before they headed out to another stop just before 11 PM.
They walked over to Oakland Avenue to my college BFF’s house to hang in the yard. I also got to meet the infamous kid who I have been hearing about for the last five years. The kid is some kind of legend or something. I didn’t think much of it until I met him myself. I can see where all of the adoration comes from. The kid is strong, looks tough, seems like a leader, he knows how to fight, he’s an excellent athlete, and between his hairstyle and his outfit he looked just like a 1950s greaser to me and I thought he was pretty bad ass. Now I get it… James walked back home before 1130. He hopped in the shower and went to bed, he’s living his best life ever. I’m so happy I get to watch.

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Many years ago, I owned this pale green cashmere sweater that I loved. It had a tiny little pocket and a little zip up and a hood as well. Well one night, just before we headed out to dinner at Adobe Blues, I saw a marble on the floor of my house and thought to myself that it could be a choking hazard, for my kids or my dog. True story, my little dog Sammy actually ate one once, and $1000 later, they removed it for us, surgically. So when I saw the marble, it put in my pocket. The tiny little pocket on the front of my pale green, cashmere sweater.

Today as I was leaving to go to the office to meet with our tech guy to fix an e-mail issue I’ve been having, I saw a little stone on my table. My neighbor on shelter Island gave it to me recently. It’s a tiger’s eye, and it’s supposed to protect you against other people’s negativity. I thought it was possible it could get knocked onto the floor somehow and become a choking hazard. I also thought that if I could ward off some negativity with a stone, it’s a home run. So I picked that little stone up, and I tucked it into the front of my tank top, and I was on my way.

You would’ve thought that I had learned my lesson of picking up tiny round objects and stuffing them into the front of my shirt, years ago, when the waiter at Adobe gave me one very quizzical look after he noticed I had what looked like a singular gigantic nipple.

So today after this young man was finished fixing my problem and showed me that I can in fact send emails successfully from my new phone, I stood up such a happy lady. I glanced into the mirror in front of me and what did I see?

One singular, gigantic nipple.

Be sure to watch the placement of small rounded objects in tiny pockets on the front of your shirt, especially if you’re a woman. What’s stranger than gigantic nipples showing through a shirt?
Just one gigantic nipple.
✌️

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Holy Crap

I want tell you a little story about something that just happened to me. Earlier in the day, someone in the house informed me that the toilet upstairs was clogged. I thought to myself at at some point today I would be so happy to take care of that job. But I never got to it, and when I did, I realized that the toilet had been running for a bit. Usually with this kind of thing, you’re given a bit of time. But when your toilet’s taking matters into it’s own hands for over an hour, you see your window of opportunity has pretty much run out. So I assessed the situation. I’ve got a toilet completely full of poop water. If I sink a plunger into it, the poop water will be finding its way through the high hats in my kitchen ceiling and onto the counters. It was too risky. I decided that a bail out would be the best answer. So I’m panicking obviously, because like every seven seconds my toilet decides to run and inject more liquid into the back of the tank which we certainly don’t need finding its way into the bowl. I fumbled around with the back of the toilet and the tank, trying to stop the incessant running only to have found myself in a situation where I disconnected the tube that lets the water flow out slowly. So now I just have water spraying and splashing around and filling up the tank. I’m trying to block it from spraying onto my walls with a small wooden box that I keep in the bathroom for hair ties. They’re back from the days where velveeta and cream cheese came in wooden Borden’s boxes. They’re old as dirt, and they can barely hold hair ties so why would I think they could hold water? We don’t think right in these situations though, do we? So I have it emptied out, (only a few of the hair ties made it into the toilet) and it’s somewhat blocking the spray of the water onto my walls. But the water that does make its way through is now tinged brown because of the hundred year old box it just filtered itself through. So I don’t know if it’s poop water on the walls or Borden‘s brown box water on the walls, but either way, I’m contemplating burning the house down. So, now I need a vessel. I need a vessel to start bailing out the poop water into the tub so that I can stick a plunger in and plunge it. But the water filling so fast it’s causing me to panic. So much water coming in, how do I get the water out? I don’t have a Tupperware or a bowl or a way to bail out my toilet in my bathroom, but I do have a wastebasket! The wastebasket has an inner plastic liner. So I took the cover off the wastebasket and I took out the plastic liner and I decided the fact that it was in a completely oval shape with two handles cut out on the side probably wouldn’t be too much of a problem. I didn’t have time for problems. But every time I tried to catch the water, the majority of it went right back through the handle when I angled it out of the toilet. Every once in a while there’d be a little nugget that appeared there and I thought If I was lucky, or unlucky, it would be large enough to stay within the confines of my wastebasket. But alas, that did not happen. So now it’s filling up, and I’m panicking, because I don’t want shit water on my kitchen ceiling. As far as I know there has never before been poop on my kitchen island, and I really didn’t want today to be the day. So I scream loudly for James who can’t hear shit from his bedroom even if his door is open. He’s actually like 15 feet away from me at this point. But he can’t hear me. He selectively closes out his hearing for the most part and I could scream as loud as I can and he will awaken minutes later in a stupor saying, “huh, what?” “Bro, were you just calling me?” No James, I was just screaming bloody murder in the hopes that our next-door neighbors who live about 10 feet away from the bathroom window might step in to help instead. The deck hands down there on Richmond Terrace heard me, I know that for sure. Well thank goodness (I think) my neighbors were away. And if weren’t away, after the bathroom incident, they packed up all of their belongings silently and were gone for the entire weekend. I don’t blame them. I would want to escape us as well.

I want to escape us.

So we are back to I’m trying to get poop water out of my toilet to make it go to a point where I can plunge it but I don’t have a vessel and the poop water is falling out the hole of my bathroom waste basket. I finally summoned James and I sent him downstairs and I told him “quick, it’s an emergency, move as fast as you can, and bring me a Tupperware or a bowl that can fit into the toilet!” He moves so slowly when we don’t have emergencies. He actually moves slower in an emergency. He brings the dog’s water bowl. It’s fine, I didn’t intend to throw away the dog’s water bowl today but I will, without hesitation, as soon as it’s done it’s job. Luckily we will have another one in two days with free delivery and I’m not gonna sweat it. So here I am dunking the dogs water ball into the toilet scooping up vessels of poop water and hurriedly putting it into the tub. Finally Gordon emerges. It seems like it’s been 10 minutes but it was probably only three. He was in the pool trying to “relax.” Good luck with that over here. He comes upstairs bringing more water to the floor and helps me with the bailing out process. He’s insisting that’s it’s ready to plunge. IT IS NOT READY TO PLUNGE! It doesn’t happen often, but he saw the genuine look of concern in my eyes and backed down on the plunge. He helped me with the “bailing” process. It involved foul language and fouls smells. Thankfully since I had Covid in January I still can’t properly smell poop. So it was likely less offensive to me than it was to him but me having seen what I saw, you just can’t unsee that. It’s not a competition though. I’ve learned this. It also may stink equally and that works too. So now we’ve got the toilet down to a level where we can plunge it, and success!! All of the poop water (in the bowl) left us. Sweet Relief! He then took the hoses that were spraying all over, secured them like it was a piece of cake and complained about how that toilet has sucked since the day we moved in. He went downstairs to find cleaning products and emerged a moment later asking me one very simple question. Did you happen to shut the water off?

Well if I was in someone else’s house and this problem happened, I would’ve immediately shut their water off and educated them to the fact that they have a valve right there that controls the flow and they have more control than they think they have. But because the problem happened in my house, the valve was never touched. All of the safety measures that people had put in place to save us from problems like this, I did not use. Instead I panicked and I tried to take water out of a toilet bowl with a wastebasket with a cutout. My moral of the story is, flush halfway through. In the event of an emergency, shut the water off first. It will save you a lot of headache.

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Life, death and everything in between…

Recent questions James has asked on the way to school. “What do you want me to do with your ashes someday?” “Do cemeteries contribute to water pollution?” (We pass a cemetery everyday on the way). How many eggs is a woman born with?” “What are some types of mental illness and if someone has multiple personalities, do they know it?” “If you could only choose one thing on your bucket list, what would it be?” “Are people born with their fears or do they develop them?”

It’s a 10 minute drive to school. I don’t have all the answers. When I don’t, we ask Siri. Which led to the question, “Before Siri and Google, how did humans get answers to questions.”

Then I started to explain the encyclopedia to him. ….”how did people with small houses fit encyclopedias?” “How did the writers of encyclopedias get their information?” “Do you think every useful invention has already been invented?”

“Why James? Do you think you want to be an inventor?” ….”no, just wondering. “

Then Bella chimes in from the backseat,”Maybe you guys could just be quiet for once.” 😆😆

Our drive to middle school will be shorter next year. I think I’m gonna miss this.

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PTSD has me buggin’ out

I was just reading with Bella in her bed. Yes it’s late, but we got back from the beach late, don’t judge me😂 So I felt something on my shoulder and I looked around a bit but didn’t see anything… then I felt something on my head, touched there but didn’t feel anything… then I saw it on my shoulder. I didn’t handle it very well. First I screamed at the top of my lungs. Then I brushed it off, stood up and ripped my dress over my head and ran out of the room. Then Bella screamed BLOODY murder and ran out to me. We woke gordon up and he came to our rescue. It was a medium sized, likely harmless black beetle.

I could have handled that a bit better. But I I’m actually suffering from giant black beetle PTSD. Self-diagnosed of course, about a week ago.

You see….my husband and I did a lot of gardening one day last week. As we were wrapping it up, Bella informed me that I had something on my back. I didn’t think much of it and casually asked what it was. All of the faces looking back at me looked alarmed. Like shocked and horrified and alarmed. So now naturally then I was alarmed. But my neighbors were around so I couldn’t frantically rip my shirt off and run down the block, so I tired to play it cool. Gordon says “that must be fake, did someone put that on mom? HOLY SHIT LESLEY COME HERE!” He wouldn’t touch it though. Instead he used the hose to spray it off of me. It was a GIANT black beetle. I’m serious, GIANT. Like a mouse… So I’m traumatized.

I guess I handled it the best I could😬😂

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Put a fondue fork in me…

It’s feeling like a Friday the 13th. So far today has sucked royally and it’s not even 11am. I have water dripping through the front foyer of my house through a light fixture. You can’t catch the drips in buckets because these fuckers like to spread out and rain down their destruction. There are several bubbles of water forming and I pop them before they get too big with a fondue fork attached to the back of my Swiffer sweeper. The roof guy is “not on Staten Island today.” But he lives here. And his kids go to school here, but he’s somehow not around. Not even for a tarp. He fixed it in the fall, I’m a repeat customer. The ceiling in there is definitely going to fall down before the end of the day.

I cried a little.

When leaving to drive James to school this morning, I accidentally drove over a giant garbage bag and dragged it down the street. I then reversed the car, freed the bag, put my car in park in the middle of the street, and tried to get my best grip on the now very torn, very heavy, very wet garbage bag filled with construction debris. I gathered it up, held it gently and ran it back up the street and into my pail. That whole experience really sucked.

Later, I was lucky enough to discover all the places my new basement takes in water.

Penny keeps ringing her potty bell to go out and every time I take her out she won’t pee.

I’m having a horrible, miserable, no good, shitty as can be, day.

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Bull Shit

IMG_5332

Tonight as I was washing dishes, I noticed a crack in the Bull Shit glass. It hit me harder than I expected. I tried to remind myself that it’s just a glass, it’s replaceable, no big deal. But it kind of is a big deal. I’ve had it for years, 12 to be exact. I rescued it from going into a dumpster at a house I was selling, in the beginning of my career. It was like a strange take-away prize. A glass held by strangers, in good times? Bad times? I didn’t know. But it was set out on a table and headed for the trash. The sight of it made me chuckle. A bold and true statement sitting on a table filled with discarded kitchen utensils in a dimly lit, moldy garage. So I scooped it up along with a couple of other items, one of them a Singer Sewing Machine. When I took it home and looked in its drawers I found all sorts of treasures. A little gold ring with initials, old cufflinks, a pair of earrings and some old photos. I wiped out the drawers and put the goodies back where I found them. It was March. Spring was on the horizon, there was some hope in the air.

In early January, I got a call from a woman looking to sell her house. I liked her from the start. She was friendly and chatty and eager to meet me. I met her the next day. I was young. I had two year’s worth of experience selling homes, zero year’s worth of experience in grief counseling. We sat at her kitchen table on a little dinette set clad in bright yellow vinyl, clearly custom-made for the wall. The kitchen cabinets had been recently refaced in a pink-toned laminate and the counters were a warm green. It felt cheerful and warm and Easter-y minus the jelly beans and plastic grass and the promise of rebirth.

I sat across from her as she sobbed over the loss of her husband to cancer. He was her everything it seemed, and she was just lost without him. She didn’t want to sell but she had to. I held her hand and cried with her, it was excruciating. It wasn’t until she started signing papers that she started feeling better, empowered. I promised her I would find her a beautiful apartment and help her set it up. I put my 50 something year-old friend on speaker phone to make her laugh and to encourage her to come out for drinks with us to ease her loneliness.  I checked on her, counseled her, called her and prayed for her throught the month of January into Febuary.  Her Anniversary was approaching just before Valentine’s Day, she wasn’t looking forward to it.  She agreed to come out with me and a friend for dinner rather than be alone. I was so happy she was willing to get out. It was February. It was freezing. Doing anything was a chore, The only hope in the air was forced.

And then it snowed.  And it snowed and snowed enough to close the mall for a couple of days and shut down the roads to anyone without an truck or an SUV and she didn’t answer any of my calls.  She didn’t pick up.  She never called me back to say that she got the message that we had to cancel because of the snow, and to call me if she needed me.  So I started to think the worst, because that’s what I do.  I create twisted and horrible, impossible scenarios in my mind and try to find the best-case-scenario out of them.  It’s exhausting and unnecesaary and I really hate when I do it because it creates unnecessary pain and suffering due to completely imagined circumstances.  Yes, even I am laughing just writing this.  

So I imagined that she couldn’t bear the thought of life without him and she took her own life.  I shuddered at the thought of it because it was one of the few times my impossible scenarios…actually seemed possible.  My husband helped me dig out my car.  He gave me a reassuring hug and told me to be in touch.

I pulled onto the block and held my breath as I came around the bend.  The house was all lit up! Every light was on!  She was fine…thank goodness.  But then why the police car? Was she robbed? I started to panic.  I “parked” the car and left it in drive as I started to get out. I was a wreck.  My knees were shaking as I walked up to the door.  A police officer answered.  I was so confused.

“Where is the homeowner?”  I asked, feeling dizzy.  He questioned how I knew her.

“I’m her Realtor.” I blurted out, swinging my arm around to point out the giant For Sale sign on the lawn with my photo on it.  “I’m her friend.” I corrected myself.

He went inside for a minute and returned with a 20 something year-old man in a puffy jacket.  He cracked the door open and said “I’m sorry to tell you this but she is gone.  She took her own life.  We will be in touch.” It was February. It was miserable. There was no hope in the air.

I was beyond shocked.  I couldn’t save her.  How could she do this? I should have come sooner.  I should have called more.  I was devastated.  I drove to my office in a fog.  It was late but I knew someone would be there and I needed to see people.  I cried and mourned her and waited for a call.

Her daughter finally called.  And I met her at the same kitchen table that I met her mom at.  She was young and fierce and determined.  She was also wise beyond her years.  She posessessed a strength and a fire thay her mother had lacked.  I adored her.

Selling the house was beyond difficult.  It had a stigma attached to it, as well as an odor I just couldn’t lose no matter how many air freshners I bought.  It took months, but we finally got a buyer.  So came the day that all of their worldly possessions were moved to a giant pile in the garage, awaiting a dumpster.  It was March.  There was that delicious smell only the promise of spring can bring even on it’s chilliest days.  I stood in the garage with the door open for light, surveying the goods.  Everything they owned, everything they used, everything that mattered to them in this life…was garbage.  It made my heart ache and my eyes sting with tears.  I searched for something worth keeping.  Something to be saved.  I scanned the table and my eyes fell on Bull Shit.  I chuckled.  Yes, It’s all bull shit.  All of the crap we accumulate, all of the pain we feel, the losses we endure, the impossible scenarios we create.  Bull Shit.

So I put the Bull Shit glass in my car and dragged a Singer Sewing machine that weighed more than my 20 something year-old self to my trunk.  The sewing machine now lives in a different home but the goodies in the drawers stayed in the drawers.  The Bull Shit glass still lives here and it is loved by all.  When my husband came home from running errands tonight I showed it to him.  He had a genuine look of disappointment on his face.  Later, my son asked what I was writing about and snooped at the page.  “The Bull Shit glass is cracked??!!!”

See it’s kind of a big deal.

Not just to me.

I’m so disappointed.

Bull Shit.

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Halloween

So Halloween has lasted for about a full month over here. I have webs covering nearly every surface of my home, a full sized coffin in front of my house and 5 skeletons hanging from the ceiling. We carved our pumpkin and I had every intention of washing and roasting those damn pumpkin seeds until they turned moldy in the strainer due to my neglect. Luckily my 5 year old hasn’t reminded me of my shortcomings, yet. She will likely remember in June when there are no pumpkins to be found and she can really lay on the guilt.

On the first day of school, my daughter came home with a flyer for a pumpkin decorating contest to be judged on October 30th. Naturally, she reminded me EVERY SINGLE DAY since then. You know when we completed it? October 29. Like normal people who don’t get shit done early. I get it done on time. That’s the best I can do. We created a ladybug caught in a spider’s web. It took about 4 hours and she repeatedly told me through the process that it was her project, NOT mine. I couldn’t help, make suggestions or touch up her paint without being torn a new one. I suggested we add legs, “How can we give it legs when we don’t know the correct amount? Ask Siri!” “This needs to be good mom, I need to make it GOOD.”

It was a lot of pressure from a 5 year old perfectionist. I’m happy it’s over.

My son went as Georgie from the movie It. I pretty much carried his red ballon around for 3 weeks… Spooktacular at the zoo, his birthday party, the school Halloween dance and trick or treating. I’m so done with balloons, buying balloons, keeping balloons safe from popping or flying out my car window, driving with balloons, and having one tethered to my wrist. I’m also tired of the look the lady behind the counter in the stationary store gave me when I asked on 4 separate occasions to blow me up a single red balloon. His costume was a big hit though. Kids and adults at the zoo asked to take photos with him, people whispered “it’s Georgie!” when he walked by and he was followed by Pennywise at the zoo which rightfully scared the shit out of him. I will take it.

My daughter went as Elfaba from Wicked. She insisted I paint her face green. She was good to go with a couple of smears across her face until she looked in the mirror. Then it was another 30 minutes of “getting it right.” The kid makes me sweat, she really does. Then I got shit for not knowing where her witch’s broom was. “The last I saw it Bella, you were whacking your brother with it….” didn’t go over well.

Her whole birth family showed up to trick or treat with her. Like grandpa and grandma, aunts and uncles and her birth parents and brother. She’s so lucky to have a family that wants so much to be a part of her life. Her grandma drove in an hour to see her. You know how she reacted to all of them? Complete ignore. I was horrified. She had her mind on candy and keeping up with “the big kids.” Then she had to pee while on the hunt for candy. She found a nice bush for cover and started taking her pants down. Did I raise an animal? Apparently. Luckily there was an actual toilet for her to use but she was too tired to walk to it. So she sat down in protest.

We chose a different area to trick or treat in this year. One with houses built into hills with steep staircases. And a total lack of railings. Homeowner’s insurance’s worst nightmare. Large groups of kids in oversized dresses and face masks trying to navigate giant stone steps. Whose idea was it to trick or treat in my own neighborhood? Not mine. I’m going to my usual spot next year where my fear of traumatic brain injury can be checked off the list of potential hazards.

We ordered sushi but my kids already ate candy for dinner. My son refused to wash his face paint off last night and I forgot to do it this morning. He looked alright minus the giant black bags under his eyes which I realized were left over make-up just as he left the car for stop and drop. “Have a good day James!”

His teacher is going to think he’s shot.

I’m shot.

Goodbye Halloween. Until next year.

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Staten Island Parents Uncensored SATURDAY Recap (because nothing else really matters) 

The bullshit on the page started like any other day. A bunch of over-played memes being shared, somebody wants to know where they have the best acrylic tips on the south shore (is that still a thing?), Michael Reiley was tagged 7 times before 7 am (helicopters)…Blah, blah Blah, the usual… I decide to go back to sleep.

It’s now like 8:45. My son who typically needs to be dragged out of bed after 12 hours of sleep on a school night, (who went to bed at midnight), springs up and announces “it’s morning.” Thank you my dear, I’ve gathered that.

I check my phone and the SIPU page is going crazy.  What has the group so fucking crazy? Diana. Diana has the group out of their minds. It’s her birthday and her boyfriend of 2 months is sleeping beside her.  There is no gift in sight. She’s wondering if she should be concerned? Two weeks ago he went to a friend’s party and brought HER perfume. Is a gift on the horizon for her? Was last night’s mediocre sex all she should be hoping for? Is he at least planning on taking her to Denny’s tonight? She was truly concerned, a bit hurt, and turning to a group of 6,000 self-proclaimed total assholes for advice. It could have gone much worse than it did.

First, her grammar wasn’t perfect. “I can’t get past the wording here, is she stupid?”   one poster writes

(No, she’s not stupid, you are just a dick.)

“Oh God her grammar is awful, my head is spinning.” -another member comments

(No, bitch. That’s just your wicked hangover.)

“I SEEN better writing from my 2nd grader.” -one fool states

Now MY head is spinning… shut up. Just shut the fuck up. English is clearly not her first language. If you grammar freaks had any brains in your head, you would have realized that. Do we have to make a birthday girl feel like shit x2? Do you people have ANY conscience at all? Clearly not.

Poor Diana. Comments flowed in. Like 500 before 10am. “Attention seeker,” “psycho,” “he should run fast…now,”  “if he comes to you smelling like perfume…” and memes up the ying-yang.


Meanies. A bunch of meanies. But Diana is a good sport.  She disappeared for a while. One member suspected she had the boyfriend bleeding out in the bathtub. But she kept it cool. She left the sleeping boyfriend as she went to work. She didn’t see a gift in sight but she’s holding out hopes.

The group’s most well known single hot male was tagged like 45 times in the post. I’ve been trying to hook Lou up for weeks. He’s going to give the loser boyfriend a couple of days to redeem himself before he swoops in. That’s kind of you Lou, but if you really want to snag this beauty, I’d be waiting for her outside of her job at 7. Leave the ex-boyfriend to watch her kids.


The tides are now turning. The ice-cold hearts of the assholes are warming. Rather than bashing Diana, a few people actually wish her a happy birthday. Some people offer her some (false) hope. “Maybe there will be a gift when you get home!” “Maybe he has a reservation at Denny’s you don’t know about!” Diana seems hopeful (and hot for Lou).


Miguel is jealous. This post has more comments than his posts. He starts tagging his old posts and posting them in the comments. He’s not used to someone stealing the spot light like this. He reminds members that he’s selling oranges and water on south avenue half-price to afford a present for his wife’s sister. No one is biting. We buy our oranges and water at Costco. His jealousy is bumping the number of comments up. Most. Comments. Ever.


We all have to wait till 7pm for an update. We are losing our minds with anticipation. Diana has promised to photograph and post a picture of the gift given so we can bash the fuck out of it.

And then she’s going to call Lou💜.

Ok, we are at over 1,000 comments now. No one has heard from Diana or Lou. Some suggest we are …

But I’m sitting here on my second margarita, too lazy to get up to pee or fix myself dinner and all I want to know is if this punk got her a gift?

Some suggestions rolling in… “it’s a d*ck in a box!” (You are such a d*ck, but I find it entertaining). “Must be a c*ck with a bow!” (God who would WANT that?) Diana, Lou, we need to know what’s happening. We have NO life. This is our EVERYTHING. Show us the fucking gift already!

It’s 8:22pm. We expected a response, a photo, SOMETHING! Patricia Munoz posted this and she speaks for ALL of us.

Diana, we have nothing but your birthday gift tonight.  Well we have wine and the possibility of a pizza delivery, but we need more. (It really must have been a di*k in a box, is that a real thing?) Shes busy.

Diana, Diana, anyone? Anyone?

It’s 14 minutes after my last update, Stephanie Peploski (I think that’s how it’s spelled) just posted this. It’s an example of the of gift Diana is likely making use of rather than posting photos of her actual gift (please don’t.) 

Another asshole suggested she was given perfume because she just HAD to go there.

Still waiting. I’m too lazy to get up to pee. My kids ate tuna with pasta, I ordered pizza for myself (too “busy”to cook) I’m on my 3rd margarita. If we don’t get an update soon, someone locate Lou. Things may have worked out.

FINALLY! It’s 9pm. Diana is back. There was a gift (of sorts).  There was a cake, use of his credit card (is that a European thing?) and a BMW? (Still awaiting clarification). If he gave you a BMW after 2 months of dating, I’m going to say right now, marry the man. Some say first is for love and second is for money. I don’t know if you have been married before Diana, but I say WHY wait? Sorry it didn’t work out with Lou. And if it’s your thing, I hope you do get a c*ck with a bow. Happy Birthday girl!

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