Is There Any Worse Pain Than Watching Your Children Hurt And Knowing You Can't Help Them?

I cannot begin to tell you how much it hurts to have to write this post. I've tried so hard to protect both of my children over the years, without actually over protecting and thus, smothering them. However, most parents realize that no matter what you do, there are just times when you cannot in any way help your child. No matter how badly you want to.

Click here for the first part of the story...

Snooty Daughter was fired after her first day on the job, BY EMAIL, from the asshole's Crackberry. He didn't even have the decency to do it on the phone or the computer or wait until Monday. He emailed her at 10:30 PM Friday night, after her first horrendous day, telling her she was history. He was also kind enough to tell her someone else would be taking her place on Monday, since she couldn't hack it without prior training (which he promised her he'd do, but did not). Is that sleazy or what? I just think it's deplorable, but certainly no less than I would expect from some Hollyweirdo jerk off. I would love to hurt this man and just before he passes out, I could tell him what a heartless void of a prick he is and that he is going to burn in Hell someday for the pain he has inflicted on others throughout his life (because with people like this, you know this wasn't the first time he's hurt someone).

However, once I got over crying about the pain this put my baby girl through, and once I got over my initial anger, I realized that surely this must be a blessing in disguise and that she probably unwittingly dodged a huge bullet (you know, like the size of a small missile). It just means that it wasn't meant to be and that there is something else out there that is meant for her. I firmly believe that everything in life happens for a reason or to direct you down a road that you would not have otherwise chosen. Life is so fragile and the road is riddled with many bumps and curves we are never ready for. I suppose that's what we really try to prepare our children for. The way they handle life's little difficulties. I must tell you that SD is handling all of this far better than I. I want to hurt this man. Badly. She has already accepted this outcome (after her initial Tears Fest) and moved on, albeit in an unemployed mode. I want to go find this dickhead and slap the snot out of him, then I want to smack the shit out of him. I can wear plastic. You know. Like Dexter. For at least several days or more. Okay, make it a month. Can you tell which one of us is the adult? Right. It's not me.

So, the only joy I can get out of this is to tell you who this asshole is, since I couldn't really tell you before, for ethical reasons. Now, as I toss caution out the car window at 90 miles per hour, I shall reveal the company's name to the world with a great deal of pleasure. Surely I should have realized the *little people* are sent packing every hour of the day, every day of the week, every week of the year, by the Big Guys who think the world only revolves because of their presence in it. I just thank God that is only true in their world, and not in mine. It certainly isn't true in the Real World, rather like the movies themselves, which are, of course, ruled by the Power Of The Almighty Buck. That is truly the only reality in Hollyweird. The Almighty Buck AND Perfection (by way of good plastic surgeons and genius cameramen). This would explain why there are so many homeless and crazy people living on the streets in L.A. They are probably all fallen rejects of some heartless asshole who told them they had a job and once they stepped onto the Magic Carpet for a ride, it was whisked out from underneath them with the precision of a master surgeon, therefore giving them a boot up the rear end wazzoo, as a farewell. I mean, how special is that?

Granted, if one plans to move to California and try squeaking their way into *The Industry*, then one must have skin like a rhinoceros. Although I would probably have jumped off the nearest tall building without a second thought, my sweet SD, just picked herself up and is trying to move along, not letting it effect her for more than a 24 hour period, which is now over. Still, I am the one having a problem with this and being the Scorpion that I am, I want to make someone else hurt. No. I want to SEE SOMEONE IN PAIN over this. Unfortunately, that would not help anything and only serves to piss me off even more, so I will, with great regret, let this matter go. But, if I ever get the chance to serve this man's revenge up cold, then I will do so with more style than anyone ever has or ever will. Pfffft! As If. Okay, I just made myself laugh like a looney over that statement.

Perhaps this means that her original *after college plan* of going to law school back here in Texas is suddenly more of a reality than I initially thought. Hey, that can't be all bad, right? A Texas girl has her adventure on The West Coast and decides to return to Texas, where her whole life and adoring family awaits her. In A Perfect World, huh? Whatever she decides, we will always love her and think she's the most brilliant star in the sky. Who gives a crap what the Hollyweirdos think. That man was probably a pervert anyway. I mean if the shoe fits....

Snooty Daughter Has A New Job... Working For Top Hollywood Movie Producer

First of all, I wanted to update you on the outcome of the golf tournament. Zip. Zero. Nada. I hope I am explaining it to where everyone understands. Somehow, the club screwed up the rosters of who played with whom, as well as everyone's handicaps. It was supposed to be a scramble the first day, which consists of a 4 member team. An A player, a B player, a C player, and a D player (that would be me). For some reason I was put with two B players and one C player, none of whom were below the age of 70. Don't get me wrong, these three little old men were adorable and I had the best time playing with them. They were a riot and treated me like I was a princess. A totally new concept for me, I assure you.

Unfortunately, without an A player (who hits from the championship tees), we were sunk from the start, which makes it a rather lopsided tournament, in my opinion. Especially since I noticed more than a few teams with TWO A-Players. Uh-Huh. I'm just saying...

So, I didn't play in the best ball tournament on Sunday. Those really suck and I detest them. I did play on Monday in the shamble tournament, which means everyone gets to use the best drive and then their own balls after that. Once again, we had no A Player, which really pissed me off. We also had 3 women and one man who was like 75 years old. Once again, I saw many teams that had all men and several A Players on their teams. Once again, we were screwed from the start. Since there were no *flights* as in most tournaments, we really were doomed before we even started. In spite of this, I still had fun, but felt I should have thought a bit more about my team members, which I did not. I was kind of the albatross on our team, which is NEVER FUN, if you get my drift.

Fortunately, the Big News is that I behaved like a very good girl and never even so much as let a "damn" escape from my mouth either day. That, in itself, is really quite remarkable.

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My new camera arrived yesterday, so all is right with the world again. I was going into withdrawls without it. I'm serious...

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So, anyway... I am so excited I can hardly stand it! I am totally beside myself...

Snooty Daughter (SD) recently quit her job for the music producer who was, as SD described her, a Psycho Bitch. I swear, this woman was like Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada". While I will miss getting free music (sniff, sniff), I'm thrilled with her new job, as is she. She has gone to work as the second assistant to a Hollywood Movie Heavy Hitter Producer, where there will be more money coming in as well as plenty of room for advancement. This guy has produced movies such as Oooops! I can't tell you with all the potential stalkers lurking out there. I want to tell you so badly, but don't even ask me. I cannot open my precious daughter to the online crazy wack-o's. She is my dream daughter and I protect her fiercely. She means everything to me. Just know that her new boss has had plenty of Academy Award nominations and several wins. She is so excited and is finally going to be making more money. Yay! Someday, we might even be able to quit sending her extra money so she can make rent and eat. Now that would be a real treat for us, folks.

SD will now get to go to all the BIG TIME Hollywood movie parties around awards time. Hmmmm... I might have to strategically plan a trip out there to visit. (As if she would let me anywhere near any celebrities.) She knows me too well, dammit.

I really think I'd be just fine around celebrities. Well, as long as I keep my mouth shut and just smile a lot. Oh, who am I kidding? There is no way I could do anything but make a complete and total ass of myself. Over and over. First there would be the look of over-joyed recognition that all actors dread seeing when on their own turf. Oh Yeah. Then, there would probably be tears. Yes. I. Am. That. Ridiculous. I would try really hard not to cry. Honest Injun. However, I have something inside me that has always made me cry over everything sweet, sad, adorable, beautiful, breathtaking, heartbreaking, or whatever.

Sometimes I don't like being this way, but there is no way I can contain it. I've tried. I can no more control it than Drew Barrymore could control herself in "Firestarter" (And I think she was 7 or 8 years old at the time. I am 55. Uh-Huh.). And no, SD's new boss did not produce Firestarter.

Frankly, I just realized I've missed out on years and years of financial income. You know. Working as a Professional Crier. Surely there are people out there in need of a professional crier. Like say, people in the film industry. Right? Of course, they would have to pay for removal of the tattoo across my forehead that says *SAP*, which might get rather expensive. It's been there a long time.

I could also be a very effective critic. Okay, perhaps that's in my own mind and nowhere else in the world. Fine. However, I have damn good taste in movies and I know it. So, that career probably isn't going to materialize either. Too Bad. Whatever. I'm GOOD. So, eat your hearts out movie people. I could be your next Geriatric Critic (or perhaps the first). Believe it or not, we old farts used to like going to the movies... when there was still something worth paying for. Nowadays, you pay out the Wazzoo and you're not even sure if you'll like it. Hello. Wake Up Call... Anyone?

I believe I've strayed from where I initially started, so let me re-direct myself here. I'm really excited about SD's new job. Can you tell? Whether she allows me to go out to the Pacific Coast and visit her in her new endeavor, is still debatable. If I were her... I'd say no way unless therapy is involved for good ole Mom. Prior to the trip.