Hey, guess what! It is a virtual farking monsoon outside. Again, and thus delaying Day 3 of the photography challenge. Again. I really do suck at that. So instead, I took another photo for you: Zach and Evan, amusing themselves incessantlywith a battered laundry basket. I’m not sure what is going on with the weather, but earlier today, it was a nice and sunny 90 degrees. Not a cloud to be seen. And now? We’re all couped up in the house from the weather and I am wondering if poor Evan will even get to play outside or swim or do any of the things a 9-year-old boy should be doing on his summer vacay.
It has been a busy week here in the Bitchypants house and I have a few things to talk about, but –oh my God—first things first! Who could have possibly rocked the livin’ shit out of her classes again? Me, that’s who! Hells Yeah. Well, the final grade isn’t calculated for my management accounting class, but my final paper is submitted and so far, according to my grades, I could’ve just not submitted the final paper and I still would’ve gotten an A in the class. I got a perfect score in my business law class. And now I have until June 3rd before I start another class. The next one is E-business. But in the meantime, I swear that, other than this blog and the occasional tweet, I am not writing a damned thing. No word counts, no APA, no crap.
So I came home from this morning’s appointment (I’ll get to that in a minute) and I get on the internet and find out that there is apparently this huge controversy involving one of the MTV Jackass boys and Ebert of movie-critiquing fame. Because—OMG—Ryan Dunn of Jackass fame was killed in a car accident. Now if you aren’t a Jackass fan, I’m sorry. I can remember when John and I were young mid-twenties punks and we stumbled across this show on MTV called Jackass. And I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard at anything in all of my life. I think th skit they were doing was called “BMX Joust” . And we were caught, hook, line, and sinker. Then came the Jackass movies and the boys got a little gross with their antics. But Ryan Dunn was one of our fave Jackasses. And it seems there was drinking involved, so this is where Ebert comes in. Something-or-other about friends not letting jackasses drive drunk. Okay, Ebert. Possibly true, but still in poor taste. And now the movie critic is the Antichrist on the ‘net.
Evan had his first therapy appointment today with a guy who seems to be in his late twenties. Before we went, I primed Evan by explaining that we were going to tell this guy things, not because we were mad at Evan, but because this guy can help us if we are honest with him about what is going on here. And bless his heart, Evan was honest and ‘fessed up to all of his stunts, tantrums, and more. We talked about everything from the Great Christmas Caper several years ago, to how he lied to his Grandpa about us witholding food from him all to get even with John for some perceived slight. We talked about the toys and the rules and how neither get any respect. We spilled our guts about the tantrums and meltdowns and how there is no harmony here in the house. And then I got home and read the paper they gave me on the practice, which came complete with a price list for treatments. $375 per half-hour for a psychiatrist. $225 per hour for a therapist with a graduate degree. Thank you, Humana. Because I paid my $35 copay. But ever since, I have not been able to get all of those we-can’t-afford-therapy jokes parents make when they feel like they are doing something that could be psychologically damaging to their children. Because this therapy shit is no joke. And we have another appointment for next week, so I am picturing someone in an office somewhere making the cha-ching noise because my kid has behavioral issues and needs some help. And we haven’t even gotten to the psychiatrist yet. The plan is to get a few therapy sessions under our belts first so the therapist can get a better idea of Ev’s issues. If medication is in order, we will be seeing the main shrink. And Humana will be paying even more. So now I’m wondering if, after the Pregnancy Heard ‘Round the World last year, and Evan’s current issues, is Humana going to cut me off? I speak of all of this, but the truth is that even if they charge us a cool million, I would find a way, even if it meant extracting one kidney from each family member to be sold on the black market. If Evan needs it, the cost is immaterial.
So I guess that’s it as far as boring-ass updates go. More later.