Normally I don’t make my private stuff public, unless it’s something I want to boast about, but right now I am so fucking pissed I gotta vent!
    Glenn has always had problems with the concept of money. Last month, despite my sacrificing my pocket money, we were unable to pay the electric bill, and the rent was late because he feels he’s entitled to as much of our money as he wants, because he works hard all day (like trying to run a business, and take care of two kids is fluff). Needless to say, I confiscated his cards and checkbook (and of, course, he’s told all his guy friends what I bitch I am for doing this).
    Well today I took out my change jar (where I empty and keep all my loose change and singles until I can take them to the bank) to get the boys their lunch money and discovered that, while I was at practice last night, Glenn raided my jar. This is supposed to be my drum corps money! Money for my uniforms, trips (that the boys accompany me on), and other related activities. Since I haven’t been able to get to the bank for awhile, there was a sizable amount in that jar, so I kept it well hidden, but he found it and took everything but the pennies! AARRRGGGGHHHH!!! He is so dead when he gets home from work!!!!!

In a comment reply to this, sum up your thoughts about me in one word. Then afterward put this on your journal to see what everyone else thinks of you.

*listens to the crickets*

Babs

I moved the Gen-X Essays over to LiveJournal. We’ll see how the current layout does. I might change it.

I’m juggling getting the store online and moving Snappy Caps from ezboard to Tripod Blogs. One of the two will be the next to be updated.

Babs

My uncle sent me the pictures he and Glenn took of us at the hotel, just before we left for the show. These two are the best, which is kind of sad. *laughs* Somewhere around here I have the phone number for the video company that taped the show. I’m hoping to snag a DVD of the the Light Brigade’s performance so I can get some snaps to put up. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to chuckle!

Here I am pulling back my dreadies into a ponytail.

Me, with my aunt and uncle, sporting almost my entire Light Brigade uniform. All that’s missing are my gloves and Aussie (aka the cowboy) hat. Yes, I know, my eyes are closed. I think Glenn deliberately waited for me to blink to take the photo, considering how long I had to endure the bright light beforehand.

Babs

I had a wonderful time in Scranton (well as wonderful as one can have in Scranton)!
    We left at 9am, thankful we had made it out the door earlier than we hadplanned. After dropping a package off at the post office and picking up some change from tolls from the bank we were on our way down Route 2, about to turn onto 128 when Glenn realized I had forgotten the shirt and pants to my uniform. My hands were full with my flag bag and my hat box, so I fail to see how I could be the one who forgot it, but anyhow…..

The Drive to Scranton, Take Two:
    An hour later we were once again on Route 2, about to turn onto 128, this time with my uniform shirt and pants.
    Our first stop was in Connecticut (don’t ask me were in Connecticut, as I have no idea). Per Jarret’s request we had lunch at Burger King. I nearly went into shock when the cashier actually took the time to repeat my order back to me! This is something that never happens at my local BKs, and should since the cashiers there can barely speak English, let alone fully comprehend it, which results in our orders constantly being mixed up.
    Our second stop was also in Connecticut. According to the directions given out by the corps we were supposed to take I-84 to Exit 1. After nearly hitting two wild turkeys (the critters that go gobble gobble, not the alcoholic beverage) near Danbury, we discovered they needed to specify Exit 1 in Pennsylvania. On our way back to the highway we stopped to get gas, where I learned two things: 1. Never get gas in Connecticut if you can possibly avoid it, and 2. Never let Glenn pump gas. The gas was the most expensive there and it didn’t help any that Glenn pumped Premium into the car. And this is supposed to be a “guy” thing? *grin*
    Finally we made it to PA, checked in and set out to find the rest of the corps, who had gone out to practice. Naturally, the directions to the field weren’t any better than the ones to Pennsylvania. The field turned out to be two blocks away from where they said it would be, but that was irrelevant, since they weren’t there anyway. I decided to give up and go back to the hotel and eat dinner.

The next day I was up early (for me) and dressed in my uniform. Of course there were changes to the program, so we had to go over them a few times before heading out to the stadium, were we practiced some more before we were called to enter the field. The corps, not used to having the addition of the Honor Guard (AKA the Khaki’s), didn’t leave enough room for us to file in behind them, but we eventually made it to our starting places where we stood, looking pretty, until American Salute. That’s when Patty let out her hopefully not too loud battle cry (“Shit! It’s showtime!”) and we joined the rest of the gang in the show. I managed to make it through without a mistake or kissing the ground. Yay!!!!! We pulled off Danny Boy flawlessly, and on the way to back to our spots behind the drumline Patty had me laughing my ass off with her mantra of “Shit! Shit! Shit!” to the time of the drumbeat.
    We stuck around to watch the rest of the show before heading back to the hotel where there was a buffet set up for for the corps. We hung out for awhile before the boys started driving me crazy with “Can we go swimming?”, so I took them to the pool. Once they got swimming out of their system we set out for gas and munchies. I highly recommend getting gas in Pennsylvania. It’s cheap! We returned to the hotel to watch ABC’s butchered copy of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, before going to bed for the early trip home.

The next morning I awoke to the amusing story of how one of my fellow corps mates got so drunk they threw up in the pool. Oh yeah. DCA may want us back next year, but I’m not so sure about the Dunmore-Scranton Holiday Inn. *bursts out laughing*
    The trip back was uneventful, with the exception of some cows, a very crowded rest stop, and a dead dear alongside of the road. I was “greeted” by a pissed pusscat who apparently thought we had abandoned her, but after a lap session while I checked email and sales, and a nap together, I have been forgiven for not bringing her along.

I suppose I better get unpacked now, so until next time…

See ya!

Babs