Coffee...

I really fucking miss coffee creamer. I’m the “Would you like some coffee with your creamer” girl. But it can’t be the foo foo bullshit “holiday special” editions. Italian Sweet Creme, Hazelnut or French Vanilla. In that order. 

So of course coffee creamer research was a priority if I was going to succeed on this deal. And let me tell ya folks, there’s not much out there. 

Basically you can have UNSWEETENED almond milk, cashew milk or coconut milk. I chose a brand called “Nutpods” (that’s what she said) and ordered Hazelnut and French Vanilla flavors. 

Ha! This coffee creamer tasted like licking an unsalted nut (that’s what she said). It added no flavor whatsoever. It just made my coffee look lighter in color. Fuckers. 

But THEN...today as I was drinking my coffee...I tasted a HINT of something! “What the fuck is that?!?” Did the kids try and sabotage me (story of my life) and I accidentally put my beloved cancer causing creamer into my coffee? 

No people! My tastebuds are BACK! I am tasting food without the seventeen layers of processed bullshit (see how I have been brain washed?) on my tongue! It was so good I made three cups of coffee instead of two and now my heart is racing, my hands are clammy, I feel nauseous, but GODDAMMIT I HAVE MY COFFEE BACK! 

So I guess I’ll take this as a win. Still waiting for the “Tiger Blood” though...

Whole MF 30

When I first heard about the Whole30 diet/fad/horrible idea, my first thought was “No alcohol? No thank you”. Then one sunny September morning after a night fueled by too many cocktails and a hillbilly fire in the driveway, I (half-jokingly by the way) mentioned to Ted that we should try it.  Ted got out his iPhone calendar and suggested November 1^st as our start date.  “Fuck it let’s do dis” I thought.  That was far enough away to start researching and planning and pinning and and and…seriously though, no alcohol?

I knew we both needed to stop eating like college frat boys and get our shit together.  I mean, I’m still carrying around the baby weight…and the baby will be ten (yes, 10 years old) in March.  I felt like ass on the daily from eating processed bullshit, (Hot Pockets!) I break a sweat walking to the mailbox and I turned 41 years old in October, which is more than halfway to 80. #Math

Well here we are, Day Fucking 5 (technically should be Day Fucking 9, but I accidentally slipped and fell into a vodka soda during a GNO…what?) And I have to say, it IS life changing like they say…although maybe for everyone that means something different.

1. I have a kitchen! And I am spending time in it! Like, more time than how long it would take to heat up something with cheese on it in the microwave!

2. Being “hangry” should be approved as a FOR REAL medical term.  Because it is.  Those first couple of days were the worst.  I was an angry elf setting alarms on my phone for appropriate meal times. Dinner at 4:00 PM? Sounds good to me, Sophia, Blanche, Dorothy and Rose! Old people know what’s up.

3. I don’t think I am an alcoholic anymore!  Let’s celebrate! Shots! Shots! Shots! I kinda always wondered about that after a few drinks. What I HAVE sort of figured out, is that if you tell me I can’t have/do something, well then hold my beer and watch this.  Classic preschool behavior, I know, but clearly one that works.  “Kathy, you flunked out of IU, maybe we should look at Ivy Tech…” said my Dad. Four (ish) years later, guess who got their IU Diploma and mound of debt? Yup. This girl.  See? Sometimes this mentality works! Soooo I guess I just miss the “choice” of having a cocktail…or ten.  But I am pushing through just to see if I can (Spoiler Alert: I will by the way).  

4. Awhile back I thought I had asshole cancer.  Seriously. If you too, think you have asshole cancer, might I suggest just a few days doing Whole30? Because it will make the asshole cancer go right away, if you know what I mean.  Enough about that.  But I would hope that if I DID die of asshole cancer, people would laugh at that because I am kind of an asshole.

5. Sugar addiction is a real fucking thing. And it’s everywhere.  Ev. Ery. Where. You’ve got your sugar, sucrose, fucktose, dicktose…pretty much everything that ends in ose if off limits.  Goddam GUM is off limits.  I chomp ice like it’s my job around here.

6. Water.  I think I am actually hydrated for once in my life.  This way of eating makes you thirsty as hell.  I’m not saying I have marijuana cottonmouth by any means, but I seriously have been enjoying the shit out of the new fridge ice and water maker. I am also aware of all bathrooms within a five-mile radius of my house. Depends underwear kinda sounds nice sometimes.  Peeing your pants is cool!

That’s about it off the top of my head.  I don’t think I’m far enough into this deal (that’s what she said) to completely grasp the overall effects this will have (DAMN YOU GNO VODKA!) but I HAVE to stay on it to feel the Tiger Blood, right?!? (little Whole30 humor there for ya). K bye.

Day 1: Some Positive Shit

Fifteen days is a long fucking time. And I have hit a brick wall. So I reached out to my pally, Jason Maze. Maze says, "You have to end it on a positive. Like the news stations do". p.s. Easier said than done. 

The one positive I COULD think of though, was my work family. Those are the people who made me get out of my car each morning to join in on the office shenanigans. 

Those are the people who I got to vent to and didn't have to worry about breaking confidentiality to. 

Those are the people who would bend over backward when they saw me struggling, smack my face, remind me that it's okay to cry, but for chrissakes, get my shit together and put my game face on.

Those are the people who listened to me blurt out long phrases of cuss words and never once complained about "The Potty Mouth Girl". 

Those are the people who stood by me and backed me up when office politicians reared their ugly ass heads. 

Those are the people who made me belly laugh every goddamn day with inappropriate jokes. 

Those are the people who I hope will keep in contact because they should know I'm always down to go out for some drinks and talk some shit about dumbass parents. 

Those are the people who I hope will track me down if they're ever in the neighborhood. 

Those are the people who egged me on into making bad decisions, which technically, are now "good fucking memories". 

Those are the people who helped me grow as a person and a better Case Manager. 

Those are the people who I am going to miss forever and ever because we went through hell and back and have seen such horrible shit together that we are now bound for life due to secondary trauma.

So that's what I will take away. That's my positive. That's who I will think about and miss every goddamn day. 

 

 

Day 2: I Need a Luther Anger Translator

(This is a skit by the comedy duo of Key & Peele. Luther says what Obama wants to say deep down, but can't. Watch this: http://youtu.be/-qv7k2_lc0M)

People will say some shit. Especially to your face. And then I usually want to say some shit back...but you know..."professionalism" and all that. 

1. "I didn't know she was 14..." Bitch please. Then why the text saying "I know you're only 14, but I am in looooooove with you! Let's go to Kentucky and get marrrrrried".

2. "I didn't know my boyfriend sold and made meth in his home..." Really. Cause the Detective told me you sold that shit to him on St. Marys Avenue last week. Remember that?

3. "He only shoved me down the stairs once, so I'm giving him a second chance..." Well then tick tock stupid ass. p.s. Hope he only shoves your kids down the stairs "once". 

4. "The drug screen won't be positive for anything...except maybe Vicodin pills not prescribed to me...and pot...and I did a line at a party..." Is there anything it WON'T be positive for? Because you sound like a real party girl right now. Are you even going to REMEMBER taking this drug screen?

5. "I didn't know my babysitter was a convicted Child Molester..." The white van with no windows and "Free Candy" spray painted on the side didn't clue you in at all? Seriously? 

6. "Do you have children of your own?" Bitch I will cut you. 

7.  "My children have active imaginations and lie about me all of the time..." Girl you are lyin' on your kids right fucking NOW! 

8. "She ran into a wall..." Must have been a steal wall...oh and nice clear handprint on her cheek...did the wall have hands?

9. "I wanted to call in the report 2 months ago when she had bruises, but I thought the parents would change..." Well then what the fuck do you want me to do??? Seriously? Play boogey man and scare them? Get your shit together, Grandma. 

10. "How much of a bonus do you get paid for each kid you remove?" Lady, I pretty much pay the State to work at this fucking job. Ask me when we last had a raise. Or took advantage of the "Spot Bonus Program". (What the HELL do you have to do to get a goddamn SPOT BONUS?????) 

 

 

 

 

Day 3: Advice For Newbies a.k.a. Suckas

You are given a lot of power and a lot of responsibility on Day 1. Don't abuse it. And don't let the job make you jaded and disheartened and bitter...like I have clearly become. Try to keep your humor...the more sick and inappropriate, the better. And be sure to rip off those rose colored glasses first thing, because when you least expect it, someone else will...

I first started, the thought of going to Court scared the shit out of me. There is a Judge!! And a witness stand!! And bailiffs!! And I had never been in a Courtroom before (besides that whole minor consumption thing when I was 20...but that was just a cattle call bullshit room with 68 other people...Sorry Mom!)  So when I show up to my first hearing, it was with a client who was cracked out of her mind (crack IS whack) heading into her last hearing before we proceeded with Termination of Parental Rights of her four children. 

I still had my rose colored glasses on at this point and so I thought I could "change" her and say something so profound to her, that she would immediately put down the crack pipe, check into rehab, and after thirty days, I would be able to reunite her with her four children running from my car up to her new house she bought with the white picket fence and everybody embracing into a giant group hug with her looking over at me with tears streaming down her face while mouthing, "Thank you". 

Absofuckinglutely not. No sir. In fact, this lady was hell bent on snatching those rose colored glasses off of my face as fast as she could...And all it took was her telling me how she went to the dentist and had her upper four teeth removed as to "service the gentlemen" better. Wait...what?!?! What the fuck did she just say? 

And that's exactly when the Judge called us into the Courtroom. I don't remember what happened in there, what was said, what the fuck I said...ANYTHING. Just that this lady had her teeth removed in order to get money for crack. 

We ended up Terminating this lady's Parental Rights on her four children (and the three children she had after that), but I will always have a soft spot for this lady who took it upon herself to let me know that this shit is real life. Not a Judging Amy or Law and Order (clink clink) episode. And that sometimes the disease of drug abuse is stronger than anything else in the whole wide world. And that I apparently black out if you say some fucked up shit like that. 

R.I.P. Lady & Rose Colored Glasses

 

Day 4: Court Etiquette

1. Don't show up with an attitude. Because guess what!?! The Sheriffs Department is right downstairs and those boys can hustle up to the second floor like nobody's business. So go ahead and get in my face. It's fun to see. 

2. Repeat after me..."Yes, Your Honor". It's not "dude", "brah", "Mr. Judge" or something equally stupid. These are people who went beyond the 8th grade. Respect that shit, k?

3. Please do not say the phrase "See what had happen was..." There is a court reporter in the room. You are now forever immortalized as the jackass who began a sentence with "See what had happen was". 

4. When the Judge asks you if you have any corrections or additions to my Preliminary Inquiry Report (that I had to bang out in one fucking day), do not take this opportunity to be Ms. Polly Spell Checker. That's not the question. Did I get your kids' birthdays right? Do you even know your kids' birthdays? 

5. Don't be a dick. Because after eight years, I have perfected the subtle art of being able to strategically roll my eyes and express my distaste of your evil lies  and ways with body language. When I drop my pen and cough, that means "Your Honor, this motherfucker is a bullshit fuckhead". 

6. Dress like you're going to church. Not da club. Nobody wants to see dem titties in Court. Put dem away. 

7. If you have an attorney, by all means bring that person. But for all that is holy, do not LIE about it. Court doesn't wait for pretend people. 

8. After Court, there is a little piece of paper that will be mailed to you with "Court Orders". These are not "suggestions". These are things you need to DO to get your shit together. Read them. Learn them. Live Them. 

9. We are all for a "family support system" and your extended family is welcome to come with you, however this is not the time for a family reunion with matching t-shirts. And if Uncle Gary has a slight drinking problem and a bad case of Terets, be sure to leave Uncle Gary at home. 

10. Fight for your children. That. Is. Why. You're. Here. And that is the only thing you need to think about. 

 

Day 5: Worker Safety

I just laughed my ass off typing that. Because there really is no "worker safety". We graduate from "training" with a State issued black binder that is supposed to "protect us" and be available to use for "self defense". K. 

We are not allowed to "carry", have any sort of self defense mace spray or Chinese stars or are even allowed to "fight back". Which is why I frequently utilized our boys in blue as needed. (And who wouldn't want to see some men in uniform every now and then). 

There have only been a handful of times when I had realized that I may have put myself into a potentially life threatening situation. The kind where you're standing in someone's home and all of the sudden the conversation goes south, everyone is screaming, you get called a "bitch ass motherfucker" and you're checking out viable exits to run to.  

The kind where all of the sudden you realize the other person in the room is clearly wasted out of his right mind on meth and ran out of fucks to give two minutes ago. 

The kind where shit starts to get heated between a mother a daughter so you physically put yourself between the two and slowly back out of the house and then shove the daughter in the car and speed away. 

And then there is the other kind...where you fear for the OTHER person's safety...because they did some shit that just took your anger level to Defcon 1. 

The kind where the father was the caregiver at the time when the baby was shaken so hard, their brain is oatmeal mush. AND HE CONTINUES TO DENY EVERYTHING. 

The kind where the child is relaying info about what her father does to her at night in her bedroom, under the covers, while the mother is at her second job. 

The kind where you see a child with two black eyes and bruises all over their body "because he wet the bed". 

Being "professional" in this job was hard. as. hell. And sometimes I failed miserably. Because I just didn't fully buy into the "look at the person, not the act"...because there are some MONSTERS out there. But I sure am glad I had my State issued black binder to keep me and others safe.