The one where we had a Raccoon. And many police.

I have an amazing story to tell you. I have been holding onto this one for months. I think this might have been the most astounding and surreal thing that happened to me while I was trapped in the USA.

So it is a normal morning. For a given value of normal. My kids are outside playing and my step-dad is outside working in the yard. (garden, whatever. I can not translate everything for you. I kinda can not translate anything anymore. shuddup)

There are many dogs barking. Step-daddy (hereafter known as Pat-Pat) goes to investigate. There is a raccoon.

For my British readers; I guess you will just have to think of this as a fox. It is fine to feed it, but only if you know that it is totally possible that the cute little bugger might decide at any given moment that it would rather eat your face than the treats in your hands. Meh.

There is a raccoon in the bushes. It is being all friendly and…oddly thirsty. It is not afraid of the dogs or people. This is a bit strange, but not overly worrying. The Pat-Pat tries to run it off. It just moves into the next yard. All of the barking brings out the neighborhood kids. There are now twenty-hundred kids surrounding the ‘friendly’ raccoon, either poking it with sticks or throwing food at it, depending on the gender of the kid.

This is when I bring my kids in the house. I am sorry, but I do not let my kids play with wild animals that are mysteriously active during the day and wandering around looking both high and sniffy. My kids were FURIOUS about my decision. “But the other kids get to play with it!! It’s *cute*! The raccoon is hungry mumma! ” Yeah. No.

That raccoon wandered around the neighborhood trying to die for about two hours. Where does it decide to live out it’s last few hours? Yep. On our front lawn. Of course. My parents decide to take a nap.

There are many  man-folk in the neighborhood. One plaid-wearing man says ” Welp, i would help you, but i left my guns up in the cabin.” One man-folk sits on his fancy-porch-extension and says “gosh you should do something!”  One man drives buy and shouts: “call this number!” This number  belonged to the local police. I have now called the police on myself. Wonderful.

I am frightened, confused and pissed off. Why is it up to ME to do this? I do not even live here! Do these kids not have parents?

“Oh Hello! Um, i know you can not do anything about this, um.  But I have a dying and probably diseased raccoon in my front yard and there are a tone of kids poking it with sticks, and um, do you know whom I should call about this?”

RRRRuuuuuuRRRRRuuuuu  rrrrruuuurrrr…The Police show up. All 90 of them. At least, in America, you now that when you call the police, they will show up, in force and within minutes.

Now I have 90 police in front of my parent’s yard. I DO NOT EVEN LIVE HERE. I am wearing sweatpants and a Detroit Lions T-shirt. I could have been a front for a robbery.  I did not look like I belonged in front of that house. They never questioned the fact that a white trash girl was taking control of  a high-class neighborhood.

I want you to take particular care reading these DIRECT quotes from the police;

Do you have a shovel?

(uh yeah) Yes,  yes I do. I think we know where this is going. I give the policeman the shovel .

Do you have a box?

(uh…) Let me look. *much looking happens. My parents are still asleep* No, no i do not have any kind of box or pet carrier. I am so sorry.

I need to call my Sargent. He might have a K-9 carrier.

WoooooooooWooRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrWoop

29 hundred police and one Sargent show up. I am astounded that we do not have fire trucks. yet.

The Sargent looks at the dying, diseased raccoon, lying on the lawn of a million dollar housing gated community surrounded by 20 hundred kids  and says  (and I quote..all of this is real) AND SAYS:

Shoot it.

The policeman looks at me, the kids, the big houses and then slowly, back at his Sargent. Then he says, with conviction;  ” NO, *you* Shoot It! ”

I have to admit that I laughed (in my ever crumpling mind) at this foolishness at this point.  NO, YOU SHOOT IT! bwahhaaaaa

They managed to call a k-9 unit with a cage for the poor raccoon. They used the shovel to urge it into the cage. The poor policeman on the scene managed to step in much dog poop during this ordeal. Mr. porch extension offered his help at this point. ” I have a hose if your shoes are dirty”  Yeah, they blanked him.

I managed to assure the kids that THEY WILL TAKE THE RACCOON TO A VET AND HE WILL BE FINE! RIGHT POLICEMEN? They said yes and they were awesome. They made it down to the end of the street and I swear I could hear the gunshots. So, no, then.

I then walked the half mile to a shop/store and bought some wine. I was so done with all of the foolery. The kids came with me. We braved the no-sidewalk/pavement half mile death-walk of the USA. I even bought them snax and ice creams. Believe me when I say that I was done and had laid my burdens down.

I walk in the house. I have a back-pack full of wine and bubble-gum. My lovely posh parents say:

“hey, have you seen that raccoon?”

I fell out. And when I tell you that I fell out, I am not making that up. I CACKLED people. I hit the floor, laughed the laugh where you cannot speak, and just walked (crawled) away with my wine.

I met Mr. Raccoon Policeman at the library a week later. I am thankful for their help. I am also slightly ashamed.

Next up; the one where I put a hound in someone’s house at random. kinda. At least it is policeman free.

.

I get to be embarrassed to be American today. (Thanks) Subtitled: Why there are Slugs in my Pants

Seriously? I just don’t get Americans sometimes. It is on days like today that I can side-eye the people who say ‘why do you want to live here in the UK?’

OMFG YOU GUYS ARE TRYING TO do what ABOUT HEALTHCARE?

This is silly. Stop it. You are embarrassing yourselves. And Me.

What is it that you think will happen if ‘Obamacare’ happens? Even the BBC cannot make sense of your attitude. I do not know if you have noticed, America, but there is a Whole Wide World out side of your little red-white-and-blue bubble and there are bigger issues than whether or not some poor kid gets to go to the doctor. Jesus Wept.

I hope it stays as Obamacare. I think that is a fitting tribute, even though it is  ment to be an insult. I live every day with ‘socialized-nazi-care’ and I haven’t been sent to the death camps yet. Y’all  crazy. Please go have a seat… \_… on the crazy train.

The thing that affects me personally is that i am like the ‘Lone Ethnic In The Room’ here. People will ask me to speak for all Americans. I …I …I JUST CAN NOT defend you this time guys. The next time someone says ‘Gosh, what IS the problem with healthcare?’ I am just going to say ‘You know what? I have no fucking Idea. Americans are Assholes, but you knew that already.’ Christ was a Roman on a Popsicle stick.

Is it too much to ask, that the last remaining sane super-power act less like a toddler and more like an emerging adult? Get It Together America.

Ok, rant over. In other news; we went to the dentist. (OMFG AND IT WAS FREE FOR THE KIDS I KNOW THIS IS SO TERRIBLE) I have to go back. I do so hate dentists. We are getting ready to watch the Euro 2012 finals on Sunday. I have no idea who to support. I guess Italy. I defrosted the freezer again. I hung out my laundry and it rained and then it got all covered in slugs and I had to wash it all twice. I found out that Little Stormbringer can spell ‘fucking’ perfectly. I win at parenting.

Now all i have to do is explain to my kids why america (lowercase) is in the news today. I BET they will be just as clueless as me.

Defrost the Freezer Rooney!

Yep, it is that time again.  That time for me to Defrost the Freezer and yell the three words Come On England!

(yes, we had the refrigerator, but that is so different, ahem)

I try and just let the rules of football come to me by watching. I only ask questions if i am so completely fluxomed that it will ruin the game for me if i don’t know. This is working out for me pretty well as I can now tell the ‘shape’ of the teams.

Football fans will see this as not a ‘shape’ but as 2-4, 2-2. 4-6….ok, i dont know… but i see SHAPES OK? I can see the maths of the game and i can see why it is called (get this Americans!) The Beautiful Game.

I am willing to bet, however that Colleen Rooney is not defrosting her freezer today. I’ll be willing to bet that every house-maid in the UK is getting the laundry either in or out this morning as we either have SUN or RAIN…well mostly rain…

Me? well i will be cleaning up one bird and two mice (THANKS CATS), looking after my poorly family. That means they are sick…uh…in the UK term and in the US? uh..lets just say I WILL HAVE a lot of things to clean. ahem.

Rooney……defrost your freezer. The Germans are coming.

The ‘Special Relationship’ explained (no sub-titles required)

So I have been asked recently to explain the weird thing that British people do, when they put down Americans. I think I can help make some sense of this.

All of the stereotypes! “yea! WOO! nice monocle dude! ” (sigh)

Your average american on the street loves ‘The English’ with extra loves. They cannot understand why this is not enthusiastically reciprocated. Allow me to shed some light on this.

America, to the Brits, is like a 13-year-old daughter. Annoying, pompous, silly, and so totally convinced that they are cooler than everyone. (yes, i know we are, but still…) I am not sure if Americans are aware of this but let me tell you a little secret…they think that…they blame us for…they feel that it is America’s  FAULT that they no longer have an empire.

Yes, you may say, but we DID win those 2 wars for them! Uh, yeah we did, but they seem to take offense at this, and we DID kinda make them give up the odd country or so…and pay us for the privilege of saving their dumb asses from Germany TWICE, but…DO NOT SAY ANY OF THE ABOVE TO ANYONE IN THE UK EVER.

Manboy would like to point out that he agrees with Al Murray, Britain is the undefeated WW champions, because if you are not in it from the start, you’re not in it at all. (what-ever)

Also, America likes to make fun of the ‘English’ whenever possible as well. No, we do. Let me give you an example from the ever-loving-hell that is the Disney Channel. Said about the one Brit kid in the ‘american-high-school-laugh-track-show’ : “Cricket? wicket? let’s tell him where to stick it!” Um…..

Also, isn’t it just great to have every villain ever be British? Yeah, we do that too.

So it isn’t fair to think that the Brits are all hating on the US. Americans do it right back. I think that it is best to think of the two countries like siblings. The UK is the sensible older brother, the US is the annoying little sister. We love each other, but we show it by punching and tickling and the-pulling-of-the-pigtails.

THAT is our special relationship.

Stemming the bleeding (not Rasputin, just not Ice Cube)

When I first moved to the UK, was so steeped in US culture that I could not comprehend anything about life here.

One of the things that shocked me was how the youths here try to be ganstas’. You guys, there is nothing funnier to me than hearing young people with a British accent try to be fucking Ice Cube. No, just no.

You are from Devon. You are not packing, You are not holding. You can wear 3 hoodies and not scare me. You are a 14-year-old weakling. My 7-year-old could kick your ass. The nice nine-year old, yeah her too. Your staffie might frighten me, but you don’t. But you do crack me up. (I hope that I don’t regret this laughter y’all..pray for me)

Oh and there was much blood today. Thank the gods that I am an Old Mum and that I know that a head wound bleeds. Thank you England for NHS Direct, that I can call and talk to A Nurse-Person whenever I want to. For Free.

You see, I am a horrible mother. I make my kids clean up after themselves and clean their rooms. I suck. I know.

Little Stormbringer was sent up to do 15 minutes on her room. The horror. Except that it turned out to be just that. A huge picture frame fell off of her wardrobe (closet in the U.S?) and hit her on the head.

She came down crying. Now, my kids do this whenever I make them tidy anything. I didn’t think anything of it. Until the blood ran off of her hair and onto her hands and puddled on the carpet. I went into calm mother mode. “Ok Bunny, lets just go into the kitchen ok?”

Isn’t it amazing how calm you get? This must be what soldiers go through in combat. You just reach the zone and do what needs to be done.

Lucky for us, no stitching was needed. What is it like for you? Do you get like this when your kids are really hurt for real? Are you disdainful of youths that try to be scary?

I am going to hug my little girls and teach them not to be afraid of fake-gansta’s and teach them to be not-sucky teens.

It’s easy: Don’t break glass in parks. Don’t  litter. Don’t talk back to your elders. NEVER lie to the police. (and for the sake of all that is holy, do not have any babies)

Is there a whole lot more to teach them before they reach double digits? I hope not. This is all I have for now.

Peace out homes.