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We all know that I give a whole lot of creedence to the full moon, but Friday the 13th has never bothered me much—maybe because I have never been camping in the woods on that day–although today wasn’t great… I now despise Auntie Good Times, as that witch has beaten me 3 times in Words With Friends.  I’ve been licking my wounds all day, and she has yet to acknowledge my rematch.  I am sure she is totally bored by my absolute lack of intellectual prowess, and out inviting everyone she can think of with a bigger vocabulary and better strategy to play that damn game.  She’s always been better than me at everything, but I chalk that up to 11 years more experience!

My monthly mood swing joined by stoopid aches and pains didn’t help my mood, but finally when I picked up Mikey from school, I decided to run a couple of errands.  The first one was to go get my Ipod from the body shop that is fixing my car over the next three weeks, because I have come to despise radio over the past 4 days.   I swear there are more commercials than music or talk, and I’m too cheap and uninterested to pay for Sirius.  At least the car that I am driving has an input to play the Ipod through the speakers, but I have to control my music on the device, which could be dangerous, but I’ll be careful—I need my customized music selection!

Then we went to white trash heaven!  Big Lots!!!  I love that store, aside from the fact it’s a filthy trash hole with sub par customer service, and bathrooms that make gas station restrooms look like a spa.  It’s a good place to hunt deals on toys, paper products, cleaning stuff and garage tools and gadgets. 

When we got out of the car, I put Pierce in the front of the cart and let Mikey walk, because he has finally grown up enough to be trusted to stay with me.  As soon as we got in the door, Pierce started with yelling for the sake of hearing his voice, and no amount of “Shhhhh, let’s use our indoor voice,” would stifle him.  We weren’t too far down one of the aisles when Michael decided riding in the belly of the cart beat walking, which iwas fine until I tried to push a beat-down shopping cart with 75lbs. of little boys’ bodies in it.  It was a work-out I was trying desperately to avoid today—lord knows some exercise would only increase my funk.  Oh..well..I have bigger fish to fry.  Namely the one sitting right in front of me yelling and laughing this growly, belly laugh as loudly as his diaphragm can force , and only getting louder with each of my pleas, threats, and swats intended to startle him into silence.  I needed a couple of things, so I didn’t want to immediately reverse and head for the car.  This seriously went on for the entire 10 minutes we were in the store.  As a little boy, Mikey had been naughty in public a few times, but it was intermittent and a whole lot quieter—I was beyond knowing how to handle this, especially in my already  irritated state of mind.  I saw myself yanking him out of the cart, pulling his pants down and whaling on his bare bottom until he had a reason to be loud, or I felt better—whichever came first.  I didn’t though…mostly because I couldn’t tell if the patrons were looking at us waiting for the opportunity to turn me in to child services for the corporal punishment I was seconds from doling out, or hoping that I would beat the hell out of that noisy, awful creature. 

Even better, I found none of the things I was looking for.  I guess that saved me from waiting in line.  Poor Michael, he was such a good boy and he wanted to go up and down the toy aisles, but he missed out because of his brother’s behavior.

Then in this hole of a shopping center, the parking lot is laid out in such a way, that there must be several traffic accidents weekly.  A person practically has to have eye’s that wrap all the way around his head and able to process 360 degrees of oncoming traffic information at the same time in order to back out of a parking spot without getting plowed into from any number of directions by somebody going too fast in their burned out hooptie.  We got away without incident, thankfully.  I lived to beat another day, and not beat my child (even if I wanted to…)