The Top Ten Reasons Why I Tested Positive For Drugs

Alright ya'll...I know you all have been sittin' on pins and needles waiting. Thanks for the help in the research Trasheka. And before you ask, these are actual statements that we have heard from our clients. Here it is....The Top Ten Reasons Why I Tested Positive For Drugs.

10. "Someone laced my cigarettes with cocaine."
9. "My dentist gave me a crack rock to rub on my gums for my toothache."
8. "I know my hairdresser smokes crack, so it must've been on the scissors she used to cut my hair."
7. "My boyfriend smoked crack last night before we had sex, so I must've gotten it through him." (okay...can I just say eeww.)
6. "I don't do drugs, but I sell them. The crack must've gotten on my hands while I was bagging it."
5. "My cousin asked me to hold her crack pipe while she went to the bathroom."
4. "I was in the car with somebody who was smoking (crack), but I didn't smoke."
3. "Someone must've put it in my wine cooler."
2. "I took it out of my sister's hand to keep her from doing it and it absorbed through my skin."
1. "It must have been in my weave!!!"

Prologue to tomorrow's post

I always knew I wanted to work with children. When I was in college I saw myself as a teacher or possible children's therapist. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine myself as a social worker. I sort of fell into this job and found that this is where I was meant to be. (Please don't tell my co-workers). In my close to 10 years working in child welfare, I have been yelled at, cussed at, had my life threatened, had suitcases thrown at me, and driven into some of the most drug infested areas after dark. This job has forever changed who I am, my attitudes, and how I look at the world.

In writing about my job and my experiences as a child welfare worker I may seem jaded, cold, and lack compassion for the families and children I work with. It is not that. But the harsh reality is that in my job we often have to find the humor in order to deal with the stress of the world we live and work in. 95% of the children that come into care are due to drug and alcohol abuse. It is becoming harder and harder to catch parents with positive drugs screens. Most know how to manipulate the drug test so it will be negative. Cocaine is out of your system in 48 hours, crystal meth 24 hours or less. It is easier to get a positive drug screen for marijuana because it stays in your system longer. However, thanks to technology and the wonderful world of the hair follicle drug test, we can find out if a parent has used drugs in the last 90 days. Where they once could beat a urinalysis, they are having a harder time beating the hair follicle.

Ahhh, the hair follicle....parents hate it...we love it. 300 ng/pg is the baseline for a person to test positive for cocaine. So when a parent who tested negative at the hospital on a urinalysis, has a positive hair follicle showing her cocaine level at 10,000 ng/pg (by the way folks, that is as high as the test will read) it is hard to deny that he/she does not use cocaine. But deny they do and there is always a reason why they tested positive because bottom line...they "use to be on the junk," but they haven't used drugs in over 6 months. By the way, this is the standard line we hear right before they give their reason for a positive drug screen. So tomorrow be prepared to hear "The Top Ten Reasons Why I Tested Positive for Drugs." And remember, this is not being jaded, it is just the reality of the world I live in. Have a great day!!!

The Plague!!!!

The Plague has taken over my home. Two weeks ago Military Man had it. Last week The Bug had. This week I have it. Fever, congestion, lots of snot and a general feeling of ickiness. If I don't die from it I plan post another exciting and insightful look into the life of a child welfare worker in the next few days. The title....The Top Ten Reasons Why I Tested Positive For Drugs!!! Pray that I survive the Plague.

Drama at the Crack in the Barrel

Chuck and Judy are old friends with my parents. So old, that it is a little known fact that my mother and Chuck dated in high school. Eventually, Chuck went his way, my mother went hers. But they have remained friends over the years. For as long as I can remember, they have made the drive from Indiana to Lower Alabama about once or twice a year. Chuck and Judy have two children close to my age, so it was great when they would come in town. Our parents would go to dinner together while the 3 of us hung out at my parents' house or went to a movie. Their daughter Lisa is now married with two children close to the Bug's age and we try to get our children together when they come down.

Around 7 pm last night my phone rings and it's my mother "Chuck and Judy are in town and Lisa and her children are here too. We're going to dinner at Cracker Barrel, do ya'll want to join us?" After being confined to my home for 3 days with a sick child, the Bug and I immediately jumped on the opportunity to commune with others. Plus it was a great way to get a free meal out of my father (I'm tellin' ya, the man is tight with a dollar.)

So the Bug and I jumped in the SUV and drove to the Crack in the Barrel. Upon our arrival my parents, Chuck, Judy, Lisa and her children were already seated. The Bug insisted she was going to sit with her "new best friend Aaron." Our waiter came around, took drink orders, and we ordered meals for the children. Our poor waiter, it was bad sign when he got sooo confused over the drink orders. He could not quite grasp the concept that adults will often order for the children in advance in order to have a pleasant meal. As the evening progressed it became abundantly clear that our night out was going down hill fast.

I think now is a good time to explain a condition I commonly suffer from called "cranky bitch mode." CBM can hit even when my blood sugar is not low. It can hit when I become really stressed, tired, or hormonal. It can get so bad at work sometimes that the caseworkers and social workers I supervise put out warnings that I am not to be disturbed. I HAVE MADE PEOPLE CRY!!!!! Okay...I made one person cry, but she deserved it dadgummit.

Approximately one hour after we had ordered, our meals came out. Or should I say everyone else's meal came out but mine. By this point CBM was slowly beginning to kick in. The waiter apologized and informed me that the kitchen was all out of meatloaf and could he get me something else. Trying to be courteous, I politely asked him "Does the kitchen still have Chicken and Dumplings?" Now my thinking behind the chicken and dumplings was that it was already cooked and all they would have to do was put it on the plate and bring it out. Shame on me for thinking that. Approximately 30 minutes later my meal had not come out and everyone else had already finished theirs. To top it all off, the Bug and her two friends were now having a severe case of cabin fever and had begun to scream and run around the room pretending that they were on a space ship and a train. Needless to say, CBM was now in full force. A waitress came around and asked if we needed drink refills (our waiter had disappeared apparently along with my order of chicken and dumplings.) My parents asked for refills along with the biscuits that never came out with their meals. The girl then looked at me and politely asked "Is there anything else I can get for you?" The was probably the wrong thing to ask me right about then because CBM kicked in and the poor girl got more than what she asked for. I proceeded to go into a 5 minute tirade on how I waited for one hour for my meal to be brought out only to be told that they were out of meatloaf so I ordered chicken and dumplings thinking that all they would have to do was dump it on a plate, but apparently that is not possible as it has been over thirty minutes which tells me that they had to go out back to kill the chicken to make ONE order of Chicken and Dumplings. The girl looked at me slightly paler and stated "I...um...I think I will go see what the hold up is" and quickly ran out of the room.

It was about this time my cell phone rang and one of my caseworker's was calling to tell me that a child in her caseload had runaway but the police had located her and were on their way to pick her up. My caseworker filled me in on the situation and we began brain storming what to do with a reckless teenager who wanted to do everything her way. I was tired, hungry, and my nerves were shot by this point, without even thinking I stated "What the police need to do when they pick her up is lock her ass up and why in the hell if she is going to run away can't she be smart enough to not get caught." It was at this very moment that my waiter set my bowl of chicken and dumplings in front of me. An audible gasp was heard around me. My mother politely leaned over and suggested I lower my voice as everyone in the restaurant can hear me. I turned around to thank my waiter for finally bringing my food to me, but he had already run into the kitchen. When I got off the phone my friend Lisa looked at me at stated "I just feel so sorry for the poor girl." Again...the wrong thing to say to someone with CBM. My response was "Why? Don't feel sorry for her. She is a damn teenager who thinks that she can do what she wants to do without consequences. She deserves whatever she gets!!!" Lisa again tried to talk about how the child was a product of her environment and it was really not her fault. Now if I had been in a better frame of mind I would probably have been a little more introspective on the situation, but at that particular moment...not so much. I explained to Lisa that this particular child had been in care long enough to make the right decisions and if she was choosing to screw up her life by running away then she could deal with the consequences that were handed to her. It was during my verbal spewing that our waiter came back with a pitcher of water and proceeded to spill half the pitcher down my mother's arm and leg. Lisa quietly leaned over to her mother and whispered "I think it is time to go." We quickly packed up our things and walked out, chicken and dumplings untouched, our meal free, and the waiter in tears. I think I actually heard people applauding when we left. I am going to have to apologize to Lisa when I see her later this week. Fortunately, I know that she will forgive me. Unfortunately...I think my family has been banned from Cracker Barrell.

Woeful cry of a child welfare worker

"We are not the toilet bowl!!!!!" (3/17/08)

Fellatio and Cunnilingus (also known as Tales of My Sexual Evolution)

I was raised in a two parent household by parents who approached the topic of sex as if they were still living in the 1950’s. When I was 16 I tried to have an open and frank conversation with my mother not about sex but that I needed to see a gynecologist as I was having female problems. My mother’s response was “good girls don’t (have sex) bad girls do, I did not see a gynecologist until I got married and the same goes for you.” That was the last time I ever tried to have a conversation with my mother about female issues and I never approached the topic of sex with her. She made it very clear that day sex or anything closely related to sex was not an appropriate topic of conversation for a southern lady.

As a sophomore in college I took a sociology course on the Evolution of Sex. It was a fascinating course as I learned how attitudes about sex have changed over the course of history. Now back then I was somewhat…naïve (imagine that), I had a boyfriend whom I had been dating for approximately one year and everything in our relationship was very “polite,” “respectful,” if you get my drift. Okay…hindsight it was boring. But the details on that relationship are for another post.

Every Friday afternoon my boyfriend would come pick me up for the weekend and take me back over the mountain where I would stay at the fraternity house along with the other girlfriends who made the jaunt from their respective colleges to the fraternity house. I remember clearly one Friday afternoon telling my boyfriend about the course and how throughout the lecture the professor kept discussing Fellatio and Cunnilingus and how attitudes over the course of history have changed. My classmates were engaged in this class discussion and provided feedback and insight into the topic of Fellatio and Cunnilingus. I explained to my boyfriend that I knew what those terms meant, but I could not bring myself to say the words and I was uncomfortable with the topic. I could not say Fellatio and Cunnilingus. They were awful, dirty words and not appropriate for conversation. I felt like a fish out of water sitting in a lecture discussing fellatio and cunnilingus (clearly I don’t have problem saying them now) and could not bring myself to participate in the lecture. My boyfriend exclaimed “God…you are such a prude!” (This coming from the boy who wore tighty whiteys.) He then proceeded to rant and rave for the next 10 minutes on how sheltered I was growing up that I did not know what those words were and I could not even say them. I needed to grow up and act my age. I NEVER brought the topic up again and I went on with my very polite, respectful relationship.

Working in child welfare there is nothing, and I mean nothing, that I have not seen or heard. Yesterday I was discussing several cases with another social worker and the recent findings of the investigations. Suddenly, in the middle of the conversation I began laughing hysterically. The Social Worker looked at me as if I was crazy. “Is there a problem?” she asked. I then had to tell her about my boyfriend who wore tighty whiteys and called me a prude. She started laughing as well and stated “well he would definitely not call you that now!” Daily I find myself engaged in conversations where the words penis, vagina, oral sex, masturbation, and digital penetration are the main topics of the discussion. It does not surprise me when a social worker comes into my office to announce that one of the children in her caseload was suspended for receiving emails titled “Cum shot!” It is a part of my every day language. I no longer blush, or feel that I need to whisper the words because they are inappropriate topics of conversation. I guess when it comes to the Evolution of Sex you can say that I have evolved and found my sexual freedom. I wonder what my ex-boyfriend would say now, better yet…I wonder if he is still wearing tighty whiteys? I wonder if he ever got that breast reduction he so badly needed (but that’s for another post.)

Ty Pennington could be my neighbor

Seriously, he could be and if I'm lyin' I'm dyin'!!! Approximately one month ago Extreme Home Makeover rolled into Lower Alabama. Roads were blocked off, cars were detoured, a mess!!!! But I digress....approximately 3 days into the makeover, Military Man comes home and says in his very marine like military voice "did you hear that Ty Pennington is thinking about buying a house here?" I gave my man a very southern gal response "No shit, really?" Anyway, according to rumor, Ty was sooooo impressed by the low cost of living in our small part of the world he started looking at houses in this area. Turns out the house he was/is looking at happens to be right around the corner from my house. A beautiful historical home. I won't show you which one out of respect for his privacy.

About a week after Extreme Home Makeover rolled out of town, Military Man came home and stated "Hey, I heard that Ty Pennington bought that house." My response was "No shit, really." (What can I say, I am a woman of few words.) So then I got to thinking about it. What if Ty Pennington really was my new neighbor? I might run into him at the local Winn Dixie (sorry folks Piggly Wiggly is on the other side of town), we could start talking over what slab of meat makes the best ribs. We could swap recipes, I could share my recipe for Shrimp and grits or the pasta salad Trasheka is so found of. He could then come to my house and give me tips on remodeling. It could turn into a backyard barbeque. We could invite Trasheka and her significant other Doodie boy, of course we would have to include Redneck Jimmy and his lovely young wife, and maybe I could find it in my heart to include the Village Idiot, his lush wife, and their demonic brood of children. Who knows, we could become fast friends, Ty may want to televise a remodeling show on my house, he could talk about this blog on his show, then I could become famous. This has serious possibilities. I think I will have Doodie boy (who happens to play in real estate when he is not deep in discussions of doo doo) look further into this. I will keep you posted.

Tales of the Mother-In-Law

Today Military Man, The Bug, and I took our monthly jaunt over to Mississippi to visit...the mother-in-law!!!! Now let me begin by saying I like my mother-in-law, I really do. She is quirky, eccentric, and definitely a one of a kind. Words cannot describe my mother-in-law. My husband often describes her as a "wild card." When Military Man and I prepare to take our monthly journey to visit her, we ready ourselves mentally for what she may or may not say. On our wedding day, my new mother-in-law of less than 5 minutes came up to me, gave me a hug, and stated "You're my first daughter in law." Now that might not be shocking to those of you reading this, but when you consider that Military Man only has a sister and no brothers, plus the fact that at the time my MIL was on her 7th marriage, her statement did not sit well for a new bride. My maid of honor leaned over to me and asked "how many times does she plan on her son getting married." Since then, I have learned to prepare myself mentally for what she may say to avoid the look of shock on my face when her thoughts take flight.


During our most recent visits with the MIL she began giving us or should I say me marriage advice. She would try to engage me into deep discussions on the importance of taking time out for each other, being kind to each other, appreciating one another. By the way I think now is a good time to mention that the MIL is currently single.

So today as we drove over to Mississippi, discussing which casino buffet we could do the most damage, we mentally prepared ourselves for the next round of MIL marriage counseling session. We picked up the MIL promptly at 12:00 (we were supposed to be there at 11 am; something Military Man has learned to accept, I can't get anywhere on time.) Our chosen destination...The Hard Rock Casino. The Hard Rock has been opened less than a year and the buffet is pretty good. Food is fresh, has not been sitting out for god knows how long, and there is never a line. This is good when you have a three year old. As we were seated, our server informed us that today the Hard Rock Buffet was offering free champagne and Mimosa's with your meal. Military Man declined (he does not drink), I declined, the MIL eagerly accepted.


The meal progressed with little incident, no marriage counseling conversations had come up and Military Man and I were beginning to relax a little. As our "server" came to see if there was anything we needed the MIL asked for another glass of champagne. The server then looked at me and asked if I would like a glass. I opened my mouth to respond and the MIL loudly announced "NO...she's a teetotaler" she then got up to check out what was on the Asian buffet. I sat stunned, I have never been referred to as a teetotaler. And for those of you who are not sure what the definition of a teetotaler is I looked it up for you. A teetotaler is defined as "a person who completely abstains from alcohol." Trust me...that is not me. There is a particular bush at my college Alma mater that I am good friends with (Eli...you know which bush I am talking about.) And for those at my Annual Christmas party (Trashieka....). I guess what I am trying to say is, I do drink. I may have an occasional glass of wine with a meal, or imbibe if I am having a party at my house. But I do not feel the need to drink every time someone offers me free alcohol. So to be referred to as a teetotaler...I even served alcohol at my wedding.


So, in addition to the first of many daughter's in law, an inadequate wife in need of marriage advice, I am now a teetotaler and need to loosen up. This bothered me all the way home. I talked this over with Military Man over the possible meanings behind this he shrugged his shoulders and stated in his very Military Man voice "Well, what's so bad about being a teetotaler?" I pondered this thought...and here is what I came up with...the following famous people are also teetotalers. (I discovered this when I was looking up the definition for all of you.)

Prince Andrew
Elton John
President George Bush (current and by the way...I did not vote for him!)
Jennifer Lopez
Jennifer Love Hewitt
Mitt Romney (he's Mormon)
Donny Osmond (Another Mormon)
Samuel L. Jackson
And the list can go on and on.....

So, I guess being a teetotaler is not so bad, some of these individuals have lived some pretty questionable lives. But on the other hand...they did not have my mother-in-law.

Quote From The Field

"It takes a hard head to make a soft ass." (client, date unknown)

Semper Fidelis

When Military Man and I got married he brought with him one dog and one cat, I had one dog and one cat. And for the record, I had my animals first. Each animal is "special" in his/her own unique way. Tonight I shall introduce you to Semper Fidelis, also known as "The Semp."

"Hey Baby how ya doin'. It's me The Semp."

(please ignore possessed eyes, when it comes to a camera, I am not Pioneer Woman.) The Semp is well how shall I put this....he's well, he is touched. The Semp's hobbies include:

• digging in the dirt
• licking himself in the nether regions
• attempts at "hammer time" with his sister and cousins (he forgets he is not in Mississippi)
• An unhealthy obsession with chasing balls
• smelling like dead fish
• picking up female poodles and any female dog smaller than him.

The Semp considers himself a ladies man. But when it comes to the opposite persuasion The Semp's favorite hobby is....

"Check this out."

That's right...The Semp's all time favorite hobby is flashing the wiener. Granted, this dandy little trick hasn't gotten him very far in the love department. But I'll hand it to The Semp...he keeps on trying. So ladies, if you are interested in a dog who likes to flash himself, smells like dead fish, and has an unhealthy obsession with his balls. Call "The Semp." If nothing else, it will boost his already inflated ego.

Quote From The Field

"If you can't say anything nice, just hang up." (client, February 2008)