Posted in Autism Spectrum Disorder, funny, parenting, Special Needs Kids, The DJ Journey

Should “Hateful Ass” Be In The Bible?

This is my son Colton. He is on the autism spectrum and has an Olympic worthy ability to find humor in the oddest things. Once he latches on to something funny he will randomly laugh aloud each time it plays in his head. Which is often. For days. Weeks. Months. I’ve seen it go on for years.

This is my son DJ. He has mitochondrial disease and is nonverbal. That should not be confused with quiet. He is the loudest nonverbal kid on the planet. He points, jabbers, yells in a language only he understands and has zero problem expressing his emotions. He has a very short fuse. The difference between emotional outbursts due to his disability and those from pure anger or frustration, is like the difference between a cloud covered night and one lit with the Batman signal.

This is them with their brother Dalton, dressed as a very bad Elvis. Too much to unpack there. Forward focus.

DJ’s emotional development is in the slow powder keg burning teen years. He wants what he wants and he wants it last week. He finds us imbeciles for our inability to predict his moods far in advance.

Steve and I parent as a unit. If he’s handling a problem I stay out of it. But as a Oh-no-you-did-not parent, If I must get involved, it’s on like Donkey Kong! Such was the case today.

DJ found a replay of Saturday’s Kentucky – Louisville basketball game. I’m one of those die hard, arrogant, UK fans that makes other teams dread playing us at Rupp Arena and their fans hate us. Big Blue Nation, I bleed blue and all that.

DJ, however, takes it to a whole new level. In particularly bad games, he stands in the middle of the floor screaming like a wild banshee and flinging anything he can get his hands on. Which gives anyone trying to make entry into his room a crash course in what it must feel like to stroll through a minefield.

This year our basketball program sucks because of this man.

Who should really read that book he wrote.

Somewhere between then and now, he added an option. Losing. Embarrassingly. We haven’t had a 1-6 season since 1911! NINETEEN ELEVEN!!! For the math strugglers, that’s a friggin’ 109 years! For DJ it’s motive.

I didn’t tell him about the game but he found it on ESPN. The boy just lost it. First came the screams. Then the hand biting. Next thing I knew, sounds of tornadic activity emanated from his room.

I go tearing up the stairs to yell at him for yelling. Because that’s how you do it, right? You just out yell them? Never mind. Don’t answer that. Back to the story.

Colton, entered the scene. I tried explaining to DJ. He got angrier. I confirmed his little emotions but warned him justification of emotions is not justifications of actions. DJ calmed a bit but continued mouthing off. Which prompted me to tell him not to be a hateful ass. Which prompted Colton’s asperger brain to commence laughter.

DJ and I look at Colton questioningly. Between laughter Colton says, “I’ve heard mean ass but not hateful ass. That sounds like something that should be in the Bible. ‘I smite thee for thy hateful ass!” DJ enthusiastically repeated in rapid succession one of three words he commands. Yeah!

I looked at them both, concluded I should start day drinking and left them to it.

Posted in In The News

The Blood is Yours Harry

The all-knowing Harry got himself punked. Too obtuse to see the plethora of red flags, he turned into a Chatty Cathy. He revealed himself as a disturbed, arrogant child. His rudimentary knowledge of coal set me off.

I live in Kentucky. Unlike egotistical nonsensical Harry, I know about coal. Coal is to Eastern Kentucky what actors are to Hollywood. We have the most mines in the country. Closing coal mines means literally wiping out entire communities. Those who don’t starve to death or commit suicide will turn to government assistance. Not only are we the fifth largest coal producer, but we are also the fifth poorest state.

Thanks to politicians robbing Peter to pay Paul, Kentucky is in financial crisis. Much needed support and programs are being cut. My son DJ is special needs. Kentucky doesn’t have the funds to help parents of special needs kids remain in the workforce like other states. Therefore, I left my lucrative job to care for DJ. The lost income forced my husband to work three jobs. Our four other sons were under age 11.

DJ spent more time in the hospital than out and I got cancer. The loss of my job meant losing excellent healthcare coverage that would have paid 100% of all medical bills DJ and I needed. I felt certain if the cancer didn’t kill me, the stress would. It took almost 20 years to crawl out of those black days.

Harry wants to take my personal tragedy, amplify it by ten and inflict it on over 700,000 Kentuckians all in the name of climate change. While Kentuckians lose everything, Harry will be private jetting around the globe on Daddy’s dime and British taxpayer money giving million-dollar speeches to fracking supporting companies.

Pikeville proves Kentucky can escape the coal mines. Once known as a coal town, Pikeville now thrives in the medical field. How? A wealthy man put his money where his mouth is and rallied support from others. He turned around a struggling hospital and built a medical college. Knowing the key to success is investing in people, hospital employees enjoy free healthcare and great pay. That is the epitome of being committed to your cause.

You going to do that Hollywood Harry? Are you so committed to an anti-coal world you’ll sacrifice your mansion, private jets, overpriced clothes, celebrity hob-knobbing, and million-dollar speeches? I didn’t think so.

So, in the words of your little BFF Greta Thunberg, “How dare you!” How dare you think you know all the answers. How dare you contribute nothing but take everything. How dare you devalue people. How dare you present as climate control pious while raking from fracking supporting companies. Most of all, how dare you attack my state, my people, when you have never stepped one designer shoe here.

You sit on your holier than thou throne in your privileged life, calling for the destruction of thousands of lives. That Nazi costume you wore wasn’t a costume at all. It was an expression of a warped sense of self. You have the audacity to attack our president for preserving lives, yet you’re too spineless to walk the coal mines as you did the landmines. The only one with bloody hands is you, Pontius Pilate.


Posted in In The News, Uncategorized

United Airline Doctor Has Sordid Past

I’ve got to weigh in on this Kentucky doctor pulled from a United Airlines flight from Chicago to Louisville. Dr. Dao refused to give up his seat after being randomly selected by a computer to do so. The flight was overbooked, a common occurrence in the airline industry, and four people were selected to leave the plane.  Two people did so without incident but Dr. Dao decided he was not going to comply. Security was called and after talking with Dao they forcibly removed him from the plane. That resulted in the doctor receiving a bloody face and while some proclaimed he was knocked unconscious others stated he jumped to his feet and ran back on the plane. Cue the uninformed outrage.

It seems the majority of people are furious at United Airlines for treating the doctor like a criminal. Well, when you don’t obey the directions of airline staff, it is a crime. Considering, what we know now about the doctor’s lack of stability all of those passengers should be thanking United. Furthermore, the airline offered the doctor $800 and a hotel room as well as a flight the next day. The doctor claimed he had to get to the hospital. Let’s just roll with that and ignore the fact that there are plenty of doctors who often miss rounds at the hospital for various reasons.
There were a number of options available to him. He could have flown a different airline. Louisville is no small airport. A number of airlines offer service from Chicago to Louisville. But let’s just say there were no more flights, which I highly doubt. Why not take the $800 and rent a car to drive? It is only four hours from Chicago to Louisville. His outrageous behavior delayed the flight for two hours. Had he been driving rather than acting crazy on a plane he would have been halfway there.
The other passengers were supposedly in shock but not one of them stood up and offered to leave the plane so the doctor wouldn’t have to. They didn’t feel so bad for the doctor they were willing to inconvenience themselves. Now, news comes out that the doctor has a history of trading prescription drugs for sex. Did I mention he’s married, with children and grandchildren? That’s just one of the blots on Dr. Dao’s history. He nearly lost his medical license in 2015 and I suspect he will after this incident.
What is the moral of this story? Before you whip out your phone to record some perceivable outrage, ask yourself what you can do to improve the situation. Don’t be someone so eager to create a public outrage that you forego truth and knowledge. Because in the end the truth always comes out and you only end up looking as foolish as the one causing the scene.
Posted in My Life My Way, This N That

What Happens When Rockin’ Boots, Fried Fish, Tall Girls & the KY Countryside Collide

This story starts the way many great stories start – with a great pair of awesome boots! I will go ahead and confess to my serious boot fetish. I’ve thought about seeking help but when I thought about it, I decided ‘d rather have boots than mental stability. Hey, I’ve made my peace with it you guys should too.

To make up for all the days I wear my granny panties, don’t shower and wear sweats, I dress to the hilt for my husband on his birthday. I’m telling you girls, it’s the cheapest gift ever. Take one day a year, dress a little slutty and put the money you save for his gift toward a great pair of boots. Men go nuts for it. This year I had to tone down the slutty because we were going out in public. Be as slutty as you want to be at home but know when to clean it up, ladies.

Anyway… have a thing about long-legged women, my husband especially. Therefore I wear heels to elongate my legs for him. I’m 5’8″ so I really don’t need the heels but whatever. It’s his day right? Steve is a bit shorter than me when I’m barefoot so you’d think he’d have a Tom Cruise complex about his height, but he doesn’t. He loves for me to wear heels even though that means his head is level with my chest. Oh, okay I see now why he likes it. Well…..moving on.

At my height these fav boots of mine put me over six feet tall. The skinny, partially stone-washed jeans I wore, gave the illusion of my body being comprised of legs alone. So, yes, the boots get me a lot of attention. The problem is that if I were in the Friends sitcom the men looking at me would go from Joey’s “How you doin’?” to Chandler’s “Aah!” in seconds. A tall confident woman in high heels is sexy. A tall confident woman just trying to remain upright – not so much. The distance between a hot leggy-chic and funny girl on stilts is surprisingly short.

When I wear my boots I make Steve walk really slow so it takes longer for people to realize I have no idea how to walk in heels. Otherwise, I’d just be stomping along scaring little kids. But evidently my altitude on heals makes my thinking a little fuzzy. So, when Steve said we were going to a fish fry I’m visualizing a metal building with smooth flooring in the city. I thought it was an odd birthday request but hey, I’m saving money for my next pair of boots so I don’t care.

Turns out the fish fry isn’t in the city. It’s not even in a building. It’s in the country. Do you know what’s in the country of Kentucky? Well, thankfully it was upscale country so I didn’t have to step around any smelly dark rings cows leave, if you know what I mean. You’d think Steve would tell me I’m over dressed but I’m beginning to think he prefers mocking his wife over having a sexy wife.

Did I mention the fun added by walking in heels on moist ground? That means I’m either towering over everyone or sinking below them. So, here I am walking around on my toes just trying to stay upright. Then I hear it. Laughter. I know they’re laughing at me because I’d be laughing at me. “What kind of idiot wears spike heeled boots to a fish fry?” Is what I’d be thinking. But then I realize I’d also be thinking, “What a great pair of boots”, so I no longer care.

I’m so clearly overdressed for the event I should be shamed but I’m not. Instead I’m pointing out to people how ridiculous it is for me to be wearing heels. I started asking people to walk by me a little slower because their wind sheer might knock me over. Nothing like laughing at yourself to get everyone else going.

In between grasping fence posts to remain upright, I began having more fun than if I was running around bare-foot. Which, by the way, was suggested more than once. What’s the moral of this story? I convinced my husband he has a hot wife, had fun making others laugh and bought myself another year of guilt-free comfy clothes.  Turns out slutty girl isn’t near as sexy or fun as goofy girl. Who knew?