We are family, and we're having Boots Electric over for cocktails.

I woke up feeling 63% out of sorts this morning.  The following jumble of thoughts thrown down are probably a result of that.  The post will likely have no rhyme or reason, much like my current mood, so just go with it, please.    (Side note #1:  Now would be a good time to alert readers that don't know me well about one of my personality quirks.   Hello, my name is Tania, and I like to make up percentages with absolutely no factual evidence to back them up.  It's just how my brain works.  I put everything into percentages because it makes sense to me.  I am such a professional at this that it was suggested to me yesterday that I enter into the political arena. )

See?  I'm already all over the place.  Anyhow, I was having breakfast with The Kid this morning and trying to figure out what my problem was.  He proceeded to tell me about an incident at school that happened on the playground.  Apparently there was some sort of dramatic altercation between classmates and with eyes as big as saucers, he told me that someone shouted out the 'C' word to a girl.   Whaaaaat?  The Kid is only ten.  Everyone that knows me knows that I curse like a sailor, I have an absolutely filthy mouth.   Even I do not throw out that word haphazardly.  I save it for when I want to be extra offensive, like a secret weapon in my arsenal of vulgarities.   I was a little shocked.

Me: How exactly did this come about???
Kid:  He was just mad, Mom.  Can I tell you what he said, can I say the whole sentence?
Me:  HELL, NO! That's totally inappropriate for you to even repeat.
Kid: You say it all the time.
Me:  You're crazy. I do not.
(this back and forth continues before I realize we are not on the same page.)
Me: It's a bad word, right?  What's the second letter, Kid?
Kid:  R.  Then A.   Then P.   THAT BAD WORD.

Phew.  That was one hell of a communication breakdown to start the day.

I got up to rinse my coffee cup with a shit eating grin on my face.  I had just dodged the bullet that every parent eventually experiences… the one where they realize their kids are not so innocent anymore.   I know that it'll happen sooner than later, but for now, he's still just The Kid…. not The Preteen, not The Jerk…. just The Kid.  And The Kid is pretty amazing 94% of the time.

I attribute part of his awesomeness to being exposed to many different types of people.  While he really has no face time with family other than his parents and the occasional Abuela visit, he does get time with my friends.   My friends come in all shapes, sizes and personalities, but very few of them are what you would consider average.   Even if the The Kid grows up to decide to be a completely conventional suit and tie sort of dude, he's never going to raise a brow at anyone, because he pretty much sees it all and appreciates different ways of life.  I'd like to officially pat myself on the back for that one.

At the end of the day, my friends DO make up my family in every way that counts.  That's good for me, because without them I would be the ultimate lone wolf.  Even a lone wolf is genetically ingrained to be part of a pack.   My own pack, much as I may detach and wander around in solitary fashion at times, is crucial to my survival in this world.

I mean, seriously….. when I'm down, Wifey knows it, and Wifey ALWAYS knows what to do.  I will end up waking up to something like this sent to me via text.

See?  She knows that Jesse Hughes, in all his beauty and raw, strange sexuality, will make everything ok.   While many people don't know this, Wifey knows that genetically combining Jesse Hughes, Vincent Gallo and Elvis Presley and slapping him on top of a motor bike pretty much makes up my dream man.  Not only does she know this, but she appreciates it.  She knows every secret that I carry around and she allows me to be whatever and whoever I need to be.  That's love, how did I get so lucky?  I may not be so extremely bonded with all of my friends (and before y'all start thinking I have some massive social circle, I have about five friends), but I am pleased to say that I have a bigger circle of acquaintances that are just as fun to be around.  For someone that hates almost everyone, this is huge.  

I've kissed a lot of frogs to find my real friends, and now I sometimes marvel at how lucky I really am.  I always sort of thought that Jim Morrison was a douche on a personal level, but I do like this particular quote:

"Friends can help each other.  A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself- and especially to feel.  Or, not to feel.  Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them.  That's what real love amounts to- letting a person be what he really is."

I'm not exactly easy, or simple, or sane.  I have a plethora of great qualities, mind you, but I'm certainly not for everyone.   My path thus far in life has taught me some valuable things, one of which is that while I am perfectly fine being a solitary creature, quality people who 'get it' make everything so much better.  I've been without that quite a bit and can do it just fine, but why do it when you don't have to?  Much to many people's surprise, I am but a mere mortal.  I am not a machine that pumps out snark 24/7.  While I'm ok with letting folks think that, those that are in the know, they know different.  

I really do now realize that this post has gone off the rails and that some of you think that there is a chance this will wrap up nicely and all tie together.  Well, Happy Wednesday.  It won't.  

I'm just going to leave you with Jesse Hughes.  Because in my world, he makes everything 75% better. So here is your morning shot of beautiful sleaze with a side of fabulous mustache,  a combo that is admittedly my Achilles heel.   OWWWW!

(Seeing as how we live in the age of 'Fifty Shades of Grey', I refuse to apologize for posting a filthy video.  Y'all can keep on wrapping up your super soft core porn in rich suits and elegant lifestyles. I'll keep mine real and dirty.)