sunburn, much?

I took the kids to the park for almost 4 hours yesterday afternoon, and I've got the sunburn on my back to prove it. FUCK, it hurts. I haven't been this sunburned in awhile... and, of course it's only the upper part of my back, leaving a fabulous tan line for when I actually do get the courage to put the rest of my fat pale ass into my bathing suit. Do they still have the same swim-suits from like, the 1920's?? I'll take it... in 5 colors.
Needless to say, I was sun screened up and ready for those UV's today when we took or usual walk to the park. I probably look as if I'm one of those trophy wives (minus the fake boobs and lipo work, although I wouldn't mind the latter of the two! oh yeah, and minus the sugar daddy... ha!), I spread out a big ass blanket on the grass, and just read while the munchkins run. They don't wanna play with me, people. As much as I try. They are at the age where they just want to go. And, to be honest -- a pack of Marlboro reds a day for the last almost 8 years, has kinda hindered me from keeping up. They rode their bikes up and down the sidewalks at the park for almost an hour and a half. It wasn't until one was desperate for a potty break that they finally caved, and walked back with me. I bribed them when lunch when we finally got home (only b/c I was starving), and now it's my beloved.... NAP TIME :) I'm sure that we'll be back outside to kick the soccer ball around later this afternoon... we can't stay in, when the weather is this good.
This weekend should prove to be a good one... camping on either Friday night or Saturday night, I'm not sure which... and Sunday Amy and I are taking the kids with us to the vintage VA wine festival for the afternoon, while Chris paints the house. Not to mention, he's off work tomorrow... so, I've got my hubby for three whole days :) Lovely, just lovely!
I'm off to enjoy the silence. Is it too early for a glass of wine??

idiots. they are everywhere.

I was just told, "quit being an ass!" by my husband. Yes, the love of my life. We talk to each other that way quite frequently. *sigh* That's how you know that we like each other. I swear that I heard him snoring 15 minutes ago, and thought to myself... "Already?!" Obviously, he was just resting his eyes, right? Anyhow, I assumed that I was in the clear to ignore the household the next 30 min. or so to update the blog, however, now -- I'm just missing out on Hell's Kitchen, and some 'quality' time with the man that just called me an Ass. And, what a nice ass it is.
I'm currently missing out on the Duran Duran party. Actually, let me re-phrase that. The party of the Summer, it should be called! I hope you ladies are rockin' some quality 80's tunes, and making Carrie stay much longer then she should, and badly affecting our youth of today, aka future leaders of tomorrow. I mean shit, what could they be doing besides taking the SOL's??! That's nothing major :)

As I walked behind Connor and Marleigh on our way to the park today, and took in the amazing weather, although, not so amazing lack of sunshine (hello, I need my daily dose of Vitamin D, not to mention the unhealthy exposure to UV that brings out the lovely melatonin, and gives me skin cancer, PUHLEASE??) anyhow, the birdies were singing, it was just really fab. to be headed to the park, no work on my mind, no laundry or cleaning because I did all of that at the ass crack of dawn, since I wasn't exhausted from the night before... etc.etc. Life was good, right? The kids were even little angels today, believe it or not... So, there I was, a little smile on my face, half trot trying to keep up with the babies... and I noticed that both my kids, have fucking liquid bleach marks on the backs of their brand new shirts. WTF? Do people even use liquid bleach this day and age? And, why? ESPECIALLY in a fucking washer in an apartment complex were multiple people will use the same machine in the same day, and sometimes even back to back! HELLO? BRAIN DEAD MORON? I didn't even want to think about what had happened to Christopher and I's clothes that we didn't notice. Seriously. *SIGH* One of the reasons, I can not wait to buy the next house that we come across, *side note -- we may have found another house that we like....* Fucking ass hats that can't do laundry. Hasn't anyone ever heard of CLOROX?? It's color safe.
So, I arrive home, sort the house out, get the kids fed, bathed -- they finally smell good again after a long stint in the woods, it takes awhile for them to smell like J&J again. Campfire is only lovely when sitting next to one, or residing in the woods for long periods of time... however, outside of those circumstances... you get home, and you all look at each other, and then fight for the shower at the same time... IT STINKS. So, missions accomplished. Kids = tired, fed, and clean.... and then, sleeping.
A silence falls over my home that is like no other. It's almost as good as a fucking orgasms, or an amazing martini. Both of which are pretty important to me... don't know about you... but, they rank right up there under Christopher, family, kids, friends... etc. ;) But, above all... this silence is just pure... well, quiet. You'd have to have experienced a long enough run with these children and then been present for the bedtime process to know exactly how damn good it sounds... er, doesn't sound.
So, I decide to throw a load, or 6 into the laundry since I'd only done one in the last week... and you know w/out a job, I should probably be doing more that... I march my happy ass down to the land of bleach using ass hats (don't get me wrong, the smell of bleach aka clean ranks right up there with kids, martinis, and orgasm's ((see above)) however, not in a public washing machine, unless color safe, people -- for GOD SAKE!) I enter the world of washing on the basement level, and every single washer is taken up. I walk all 6 loads back upstairs, make a cup of tea, and return 30 min. later -- which is how long it takes for the wash cycle to finish (and I knew damn well that they were on spin).... nothing has moved. So, someone is sitting on their lazy ass when I've got shit to do people, and it's already 8:30. PROBABLY the same douche that puts liquid bleach in the washer. I retire upstairs again, because I refuse to touch peoples close, lest the fucktardness rub off on me. I've finally just started ONE LOAD, because that is all that has moved in an hour and a half... at 9:30.
I suppose if it wasn't the idiots (there were only a few, but hey -- a few was a few too many) at the bar wrecking my head... it's going to be the idiots in domestic land.
I can only laugh.

isn't it funny?

It figures......

when I finally start my blog, titled: "A Bartender's Word, From Behind the Bar"..... I quit my job. HA! Just like that. I'm a wee bit crazy, none the less, I've been contemplating for the last 6 months if the money/drama/hours/stress was worth missing out on time with the kids, and husband. And, obviously, on Friday I came to the conclusion that -- it wasn't. And I couldn't be more thrilled. I've put almost my entire adult working career into this industry, and I believe that it's time for a change. Or, maybe I'll just soak up some sun at the pool, at the playground, reading with the kids under a tree when we get too much sun, and most of all -- loving every single moment of there lives before they both gear up for full time school. And being the most important thing to me, in this whole crazy f*ed up world.... a mama, and a wife.

After I wrote my resignation letter, and put it behind me, in a whopping 5-6 minutes (yea, I took it pretty well. I was upset for a few, and then realized that there wasn't a whole lot to cry over.... EXCEPT for the hundreds of dollars that I wouldn't be making....). ANYHOW, after the whole ordeal was over and done with... we packed it up for camping with friends of ours (well, really -- a friend of Christopher's and his family) at a place in Southern VA called Wilderness. We hit the pool, we played arcade games, we played in the gym IE. pool, ping-pong, basketball, we had a blast.... and topped it all off with S'Mores. It was a pretty fabulous weekend. The weather was gorgeous. I even slept pretty good. The only thing that I could have asked for was our little monsters, I mean angels -- to act better. I know that they were exhausted, and just fussy from the surroundings... but, still -- the crabbiness was a bit trying by Sunday afternoon when we all piled into the car to come home. I myself am exhausted from the trip, which EVEN more excited me about not having to work tonight... and looking forward to the pool tomorrow evening as a family.... and, and, and... I could go on for hours about how damn ecstatic I am to be much more readily available to my favorite people. The Fam.

Anyhow, the kids are snoozing away after our failed attempt at renting some paddle boats at Burke Lake Park (over a two hour wait!), and a lunch that consisted of cereal, pickles, tuna salad sandwiches, and potato chips. They'll go days without wanting to sit down for a meal, and then all of a sudden, binge-o-Rama! So, maybe I'll try and catch the rest of Hamburger Hill, or some other such Memorial Dayesque movie....

happy? memorial day....

Happy? I think not. Maybe seething with jealousy.
As I write, the kids and Christopher are preparing for a fabulous, relaxing, swimming filled, s'mores eatin', beers drinkin', camp-fire sittin', under the stars sleepin' camping trip with several of Chris's friends from work, with their wives and children. And, of course -- I'm getting ready for..... work. Tonight, double tomorrow, and double Sunday. and of course, closing shift on Monday night as well. I can taste the steaks off of the grill, and the sweet white wine out of my red solo cup, while I listen to our babies run and play with the other kids. It's not fair, dammit. Of course, it's a holiday -- and that's when the public is more prevelent in our industry, which in turn means we need to be most prevelent. It just fucking blows, though. My family is going to be having a fabulous time, and I'll be working over 40 hours, just this weekend.
I better have like... $1,500, plus coming out of this.

an application to date my daughter (and son)

poor Marleigh.... she has no idea what 13 is going to be like, and yes -- this can apply to all the little hussies that want to date my son, Connor as well! (I am well aware that our children are only 4 and 3, however -- it never hurts to be prepared).

APPLICATION FOR PERMISSION TO DATE MY DAUGHTER NOTE:
This application will be incomplete and rejected unless accompanied by a complete financial statement,
job history, lineage, and current medical report from your doctor. NAME_____________________________________ DATE OF BIRTH_____________HEIGHT___________ WEIGHT____________ IQ__________ GPA_____________ SOCIAL SECURITY #_________________ DRIVERS LICENSE #__ ______________BOY SCOUT RANK AND BADGES__________________________________________HOME ADDRESS_______________________ CITY/STATE___________ ZIP______ Do you have parents? ___Yes ___NoIs one male and the other female? ___Yes ___NoIf No, explain: _____________________________________________________ ________ _____________________________________________________________________ Number of years they have been married ______________________________If less than your age, explain ____________________________________________ ________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ ACCESSORIES SECTION:A. Do you own or have access to a van? __Yes __NoB. A truck with oversized tires? __Yes __NoC. A waterbed? ; __Yes __No D. A pickup with a mattress in the back? __Yes __NoE. A tattoo? __Yes __NoF. Do you have an earring, nose ring, __Yes __No pierced tongue, pierced cheek or a belly button ring? (IF YOU ANSWERED 'YES' TO ANY OF THE ABOVE, DISCONTINUE APPLICATIONAND L EAVE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY. I SUGGEST RUNNING.) ESSAY SECTION: In 50 words or less, what does 'LATE' mean to you? ______________________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________________In 50 words or less, what does 'DON'T TOUCH MY DAUGHTER' mean to you? __________________________________________________________ ____ ______________________________________________________________ In 50 words or less, what does 'ABSTINENCE' mean to you? ______________________________________________ ________________ ______________________________________________________________REFERENCES SECTION:Church you attend ___________________________________________________ How often you attend ________________________________________________When would be the best time to interview your: father? _____________ mother? _____________ pastor? _____________ SHORT-ANSWER SECTION: Answer by filling in the blank. Please answer freely, all answersare confidential.A: If I were shot, the last place I would want to be shot would be: ______________________________________________________________B: If I were beaten, the last bone I would want broken is my: ____________ __________________________________________________ C: A woman's place is in the: ______________________________________________________________D: The one thing I hope this application does not ask me about is: ______________________________________________________________ E. What do you want to do IF you grow up? ___________________________ ______________________________________________________________ ______________________________ ________________________________ F. When I meet a girl, the thing I always notice about her first is: _________________________________ _____________________________F. What is the current going rate of a hotel room? __________________ I SWEAR THAT ALL INFORMATION SUPPLIED ABOVE IS TRUE AND CORRECT TOTHE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE UNDER PENAL TY OF DEATH, DISMEMBERMENT,NATIVE AMERICAN ANTI TORTURE, ELECTROCUTION, CHINESE WATER TORTURE, AND RED HOT POKERS
_________________________________________________________ Applicant's Signature _______________________________ ________________________________Mother's Signature Father's Signature _______________________________ ________________________________ Pastor/Priest/Rabbi State Representative/CongressmanThank you for your interest, and it ha d better be genuine and non-sexual. Please allow four to six years for processing.You will be contacted in writing if you are approved. Please do not try to call or write (since you probably can't, and it would cause you injury).
To prepare yourself, start studying Daddy's Rules for Dating (below).Daddy's Rules for Dating

Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them..
Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. S ti ll, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four: I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a 'Barrier method' of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five: It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: 'early.'
Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge . Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual themes are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to te ll me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over the desert in Iraq. When the nerve agents effects starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
Sincerely - Dad & Mom

isn't it pool party season?

When I awoke this AM to the sound of water flowing, I thought to myself...
sweet, I must not have been dreaming about being somewhere in the beautiful french Polynesians... I really must be here, I can even hear the water..... FUCK FUCK FUCK! What have the kids done now?!
As I rounded the corner from my bedroom to the bathroom, I see my beautiful blue eyed, toe headed, babies sitting in at least 6 in of water, and the toilet just flowing away. They are prepared.... they have on their bathing suits, as well as sunglasses (well, my sunglasses) and beach hats. They were having a memorial day weekend party, Connor and Marleigh style.
**deep breath** Can you blame them? I'm ready for some pool and beach action myself. So ready, that I too sat down in the overflow of toilet water, and splashed happily.... NOT REALLY, but it looked as if they were seriously enjoying themselves. Which, temporarily took my mind of off the 6 inches of water that I was standing in.... in my hall way.... 4 feet away from the bathroom door. HOLY S**T! I turn the water off on the toilet, unclog it (a box of baby wipes provides for a good enough dam, if ever looking for a makeshift pool of toilet water...), throw some towels down, and just as I think I have the madness under control, I hear a knock on the door..... and the kids exclaim "DADDY!" because, well -- unless the UPS man is delivering another one of my online shopping sprees, no one else comes to our front door. No, kids -- Daddy is doing the hard work of freedom at the moment.... or drinking a cup of coffee, smoking a cigarette, and watching his favorite -- The Price is Right. Nothing interrupts the Price is Right, and I mean nothing. BACK TO THE STORY AT HAND. I knew it wasn't my husband, and my stomach dropped. The downstairs neighbors. And, back to the FUCK FUCK FUCK! They had to be rained on. There is no way that 6 in of water didn't somehow find it's way down to the family below. Apt. 105.
*sighs* *checks the peep hole* Yup, downstairs' neighbor. I check the time. 6:03 am. I make an executive decision.... I'm NOT answering that door. I mean, he's gotta know where the water is coming from, and I know that the water is there. There is really no reason to inform me of that, and I'm sure that he was just coming up to be a good neighbor and let me know that there was obviously a leak somewhere, or something of that nature, right?? Since he was awoken at 6 am by water dripping on his head from above, I'm sure that he just wanted to check on us. Fuck No he didn't.... He was probably livid, and ready to kill someone, as I would be in the same exact situation. I made that executive decision, knowing that he needed a little bit of time to cool off. After all, not many people that I know are very friendly in the morning anyhow.
I feel like crap now though.
I actually made the kids hide in bed with me.....
"shhhhh, be quiet guys!" why Mommy? "'cause the guy from downstairs is at the door, and he's mad about the memorial day party pool!!" why Mommy? "because it made it's way into his apt, and he wasn't in the mood for a pool party, at least not at 6 am" why Mommy? "GUYS! let's just be quiet 'til he leaves, okay??" okay Mommy!
Well, the kids must have been tuckered out from all of that swimming 'cause we all fell back asleep until 9:30.
Ah well, sometimes having to clean up a bit of water, is worth the sleep-in that you get afterwards.

I reckon if I hadn't been at work until 1 am last night (even though, that's an early night for me).... that water may haven awoken me long before it became such a monstrosity.

in the beginning

I write all of the time. I've just never thought to make my writings public. So, here I am... to bring you my opinions, my thoughts, my ideas, to share with you the adventures that I embark on with my family and friends, and most of all to share with you my point of view on a daily basis... the one that is from behind the bar. Yes, I'm a bartender.
First and foremost, I'm a mother, a wife, a friend, even a daughter and grand daughter. However, when it comes to my identity, a bartender is definatly high up on the list of things that would be important in describing me. It's what I love. I'm so confident, and comfortable behind that bar, it's almost as if I'm at home. I feel in complete control, I'm good at it, and I have a blast doing it. It's just as anyone that finds their niche in life/career. Sometimes, I wish that I made a damn good lawyer so that I was making $300,000 a year -- however, I can't complain about the money either... it provides half of the income for a family of four, and we live comfortably. Sometimes a little too comfortably.
Unfortunatly, as a result of loving a job that has me working in the evenings - I tend to be exhausted, a lot of the time. Our children confuse themselves with roosters, and are generally up with the sun. So, a late night closing the bar can mean 3 am -- and in turn that equals about 3 hours of sleep. Thank God for NAPTIME! It leaves a weird/tight schedule when it comes to spending time with the family, and friends... and unfortunatly, you miss out on most holidays as those are our busiest times. BUT, it can very flexible when neccesary... a vacation? Just get your shifts covered. And, there is almost always someone that owes you a favor, as we are contantly taking care of each other.
I work in one of the busiest bars in Old Town Alexandria. I have been employed there since we opened in April 2006. We have a fairly large staff, as it is a very large restaurant/bar. There are 9 bartenders, alone (all of us have been working together for the last two years!). We are extremly close, and there are times that conversations take place and your average person wouldn't have understood a thing said. We laugh, joke, and generally horseplay probably 70% of the time that we are at work. The other 30% I'd say we spend getting our asses handed to us, because we are 8-9 deep at the bar. And, that was just Monday!
Anyhow, there is a little bit of background for you...
I hope to keep you entertained with my stories, and tales.... some probably unbelievable, from behind the bar.