My dad just left our house after visiting for the afternoon. Quite frankly, I don't know what to think...I used to think he had good taste, Well....at least as far as clothing goes.

What started as his very traditional home with tasteful furnishings, has slowly been transformed into a two story, butter-mint, green dwelling that looks like it stepped out from the pages of a Hans Christian Anderson book...The Hansel & Gretel House with San Juan/Carribean & American Folk/ Country themes throughout; mixed with Victorian touches, possibly Asian and Safari.

I have to take a Tylenol ( I'm valium free - Woo Hoo!!, I think) just to walk into the house to subdue the headache I will incur from all of the blinding neon painted furniture and contrasting fabrics. Not to mention all of the ever-changing, cheap clutter that makes its way into the house on a daily basis, by means of a catalog and 800 number.

Every surface that could possibly be painted by hand, is. The once nice dining room furniture has been painted with pearlized ivory paint, then an accent of mint pearl paint and something that looks like freehand Chinese symbols.

Since Dad flies quite a bit, and his current wife spends most of her time with her family in Puerto Rico, he gets lonely. Dad loves dogs but does not want the responsibility of one since he's frequently out of town, and would not want to have to board a pet...and he's not much of a cat person. He tried lovebirds for a year or so, but they continued to squawk and bite him; so he's trying to pawn them off on his family and friends with the same speech he was given to take them.

Now, I think he may be losing it, as he just took us out to his mini-van to show us his latest infomercial purchase; A ten-gallon sea aquarium with realistic looking plastic, tropical fish. Not that realistic, but evidently - enough for him. He was clearly so pleased with his purchase, that he was anxious to get home and assemble his new aquarium. He then showed us the jug of distilled water that the directions informed him that he needed for his new, fake little friends.

Wow, distilled water? Do these fake fish thrive better in distilled water as opposed to tap water?

We were speechless. Uncomfortably so. Even the kids didn't know how to react. They all looked at me with raised eyebrows. Finally, I asked him, "So Dad, Ughhh, are you planning on naming these fish?"

Yikes...I hope he doesn't get too attached.

My dad just left our house after visiting for the afternoon. Quite frankly, I don't know what to think...I used to think he had good taste, Well....at least as far as clothing goes.

What started as his very traditional home with tasteful furnishings, has slowly been transformed into a two story, butter-mint, green dwelling that looks like it stepped out from the pages of a Hans Christian Anderson book...The Hansel & Gretel House with San Juan/Carribean & American Folk/ Country themes throughout; mixed with Victorian touches, possibly Asian and Safari.

I have to take a Tylenol ( I'm valium free - Woo Hoo!!, I think) just to walk into the house to subdue the headache I will incur from all of the blinding neon painted furniture and contrasting fabrics. Not to mention all of the ever-changing, cheap clutter that makes its way into the house on a daily basis, by means of a catalog and 800 number.

Every surface that could possibly be painted by hand, is. The once nice dining room furniture has been painted with pearlized ivory paint, then an accent of mint pearl paint and something that looks like freehand Chinese symbols.

Since Dad flies quite a bit, and his current wife spends most of her time with her family in Puerto Rico, he gets lonely. Dad loves dogs but does not want the responsibility of one since he's frequently out of town, and would not want to have to board a pet...and he's not much of a cat person. He tried lovebirds for a year or so, but they continued to squawk and bite him; so he's trying to pawn them off on his family and friends with the same speech he was given to take them.

Now, I think he may be losing it, as he just took us out to his mini-van to show us his latest infomercial purchase; A ten-gallon sea aquarium with realistic looking plastic, tropical fish. Not that realistic, but evidently - enough for him. He was clearly so pleased with his purchase, that he was anxious to get home and assemble his new aquarium. He then showed us the jug of distilled water that the directions informed him that he needed for his new, fake little friends.

Wow, distilled water? Do these fake fish thrive better in distilled water as opposed to tap water?

We were speechless. Uncomfortably so. Even the kids didn't know how to react. They all looked at me with raised eyebrows. Finally, I asked him, "So Dad, Ughhh, are you planning on naming these fish?"

Yikes...I hope he doesn't get too attached.

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook today and I don't think she will mind if I post this.

She wrote: "...is having one of those days where the average person/stranger I'm crossing paths with in public irritates the crap out of me. Question...is it them or me?"

My response:
Without question - it's them! On days like this, my "Irritable Day Mantra": You're not out there to make anymore friends. Take nothing personally and it's ok to have that jumbo size glass of wine at 4:58 pm. Weekends don't apply.

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook today and I don't think she will mind if I post this.

She wrote: "...is having one of those days where the average person/stranger I'm crossing paths with in public irritates the crap out of me. Question...is it them or me?"

My response:
Without question - it's them! On days like this, my "Irritable Day Mantra": You're not out there to make anymore friends. Take nothing personally and it's ok to have that jumbo size glass of wine at 4:58 pm. Weekends don't apply.

The following is my (one and only) comedy stand up act (Monologue for Atlanta Job Zone Contest) performed at the Atlanta Funny Farm in 9/07. This had to be edited to less than 4 minutes. Writing it and delivering it are ALL TOGETHER different....

Hi! My name is Libby Rouleau and I am here to tell you about my first job experience.

But first I need to tell you a little bit about how I grew up for you to understand.

My parents divorced when I was twelve… and both are remarried (Dad, more than once… and OH dad is a retired F.B.I. agent and pilot. / That’s really a separate story altogether… Not quite Jerry Springer caliber, but close. / Then again, since I don’t watch Jerry Springer, a stepmother or two from my past, may have already appeared on the show …

Don’t get me wrong, my dad is a GREAT guy. He just lacked some crucial judgment skills when we were younger…That would include some time management skills too – Such as…Quality weekend time with your young daughters should not overlap with your undercover drug busts.

And just from experience, it’s probably NOT a good idea to read from “Helter Skelter” about the Charles Manson Family massacres to your 8 year old daughter as a bed time story. (Pause)
L o nn gg term effects….

Anyway…So that’s a little background..

Thanks to the yellow pages, my first job out of college was working for an adoption agency as a counselor to expectant mothers. YEA…That lasted only a few weeks.

Actually,/ I was fired. I honestly don’t know why they hired me to begin with.
I had no experience dealing with pregnancy other than at the age of 12, watching my hamster that I had for only a week, give birth to seven baby hamsters…She ate one of them and my Dad dropped another.

So realistically, my only experience for this counselor position was that I had had sex before, while trying to AVOID pregnancy, had suffered from bad cramps, and watched a rodent mother eat her young…that’s about as close as I could get to relating to what these young, pregnant women were going through.

Twenty-one years old equipped with only a bachelors degree, bad hamster care, and excruciating cramps and the agency sent me off to Chicago the day after Christmas for several weeks of training.

How in the world am I supposed to “counsel” these young women? Assure them they are making a good decision…Just get a puppy. Taking care of a baby is way outside the parameters of daily dog care… After all, dogs don’t talk back, can’t use weapons, or do drugs, and if they get another dog pregnant, you’re not responsible for the next 18 years of your life. Simple SEE? / Let’s talk birth control.

My first case meeting was with an 18 yr. old pregnant girl old at a McDonalds on Chicago’s south west side. She was due to give birth any day, and with her were her, two small daughters; each from different fathers.
Oh, and mom’s gang-related. “What? Yea…Nice homemade tattoos.
No, I don’t want one. They look really good on you though.”

“So, what colors should I not be wearing in this hood right now? Hummm… Freezing verses drive by shooting?

Okay, I’ll lose the coat and shirt… So-- it’s snowing, only 18 degrees outside with a wind-chill factor of -14

Questions I need to ask at the next Staff Meeting:
Do I need, as my dad would say, “to pack heat” for this job?…Do I need to get a gun permit or a gang code handbook? Can we go over my benefits, as in Life Insurance? (build) employee protection plan as in a body guard …maybe relocation if necessary as in Des Moines?

Their reason for letting me go? … They didn’t like questions.
ANY QUESTIONS! That led to inflexibility.

“So,