When Tito told me he had S&M for homework, I about crapped my pants. Who knew they give S&M for homework in Kindergarten???
I love this school district.
Of course, if I were a Kindergarten teacher, you KNOW I'd totally have sent this combination of letters home on purpose, just to see if anybody was paying attention.
I forgot to mention that last week Anti-Stella had the baby GIRL she's been wanting for so long! Her name's Olivia. After three boys (ages 6, 5, and almost 2), this was their last shot at it, and they are just over the moon. So, YAY!!!
Right now I've got a roast in my Crock Pot. Why?
I like to know what's for dinner pretty early in the day. Preferably before lunch, so when R calls me I can tell him what we're having. Cuz I'm an awesome wife like that. Anyway, right after I got back from embarrassing my daughter, I had this brilliant idea to drop a frozen turkey tenderloin in the Crock Pot, add some Chicken Broth and let it cook all day. Effortless. My kind of meal.
I was pretty sure I had one of those box/pouches of Chicken Broth in the pantry, so I grabbed it, popped it open and poured it in.
Beef Broth. It was Beef Broth. Ya can't cook turkey in Beef Broth. That's just wrong. And I didn't have anything even remotely Beefy in the house, since R was at work, y'know...
So I had to make a special trip to get something I could cook in the Beef Broth that I now had sitting in the bottom of the Crock Pot. I got Tito in the van and went to the new Whole Foods that opened up near me recently, just for fun. I went to the butcher and explained that because I'm a dumbass and I didn't READ the stupid box I had Beef Broth instead of Chicken Broth in my Crock Pot and seeing as how I was suffering from an alarming lack of Beef at home, I needed something to go with it.
The butcher thinks I'm funny.
I got two pounds of something Beefy and an onion, and it's cooking right now. Smells good. The day is saved.
Oh, and if you haven't seen THIS, you should. I've noticed that my phone hasn't been ringing nearly as often...
Beebie lost her election. But she's really ok with it. She wants to join the school newspaper staff instead. Such resilience.
Lemme remember where I left off - oh yeah, the dentist. My crown seems to have leveled itself and I'm relieved. And I didn't have to take a Xannie like last time. Good thing I didn't, too, because later that evening, Rip called me up to see if we wanted to come hang with him and his Brazilian client Roberto. I didn't want him to think i was a dork for having my pajamas on when he called, so I didn't tell him. Instead I said, Sure, we'll be right over! R and I left the house after 9pm for the first time in I couldn't even tell you how long.
I'll have to ask Rip if I can take and post pics of his basement, called The Man Cave. It is truly nothing short of SPECTACULAR. Seriously. Anyway, we went over and threw darts and shot pool and drank beer, and then Rip showed us these Cuban cigars that Roberto had brought him.
Now, I have never smoked a cigarette in my life. I think smoking is gross, I hate how it smells, it's just nasty.
However.
There's a certain kind of sweet rebellious coolness in the fact that A) this is something no one would believe I would ever do in a million years and I know R doesn't think I'll do it B) we're really not supposed to have these things in the first place. And breakin' the law? That's just HOT. Hell, if you're gonna smoke a cigar, smoke the Cadillac of cigars. These were no Swisher Sweets, my friends. No sir. These were top fuckin quality. Rip doesn't mess around.
So my husband, our buddy Rip and our new Brazilian amigo Roberto and I drank a whole lotta Blue Moon from the Kegerator(I don't know exactly how much because my mug was never less than half-full) and smoked Cubans on Rip's back porch. And it was AWESOME. I totally can't wait to smoke another one.
I don't know if it was the taste of the cigar or the delicious, intoxicating taste of willful defiance (fuck the establishment! stick it to the man!), but it was the most fun I've had in a long ass time. Mostly because R was having so much fun too. Rip said it was the most animated he'd ever seen R, and that's absolutely true. That was the most either one of us had had to drink in a while.
Oh, and I should also tell you what the topic of conversation was. I need to come up with a name for Princeton's mom. Here's why.
Princeton's mom had called me earlier that afternoon. Beeb saw the name on Caller ID and of course assumed the phone was for her. No, Princeton's mom wanted to talk to Me.
Instant Diarrhea Moment - Oh my God, she's calling to tell me my 11-year-old daughter's a tramp and she needs to stay the hell away from her boy.
I don't know why my mind always instantly envisions worst case scenarios like that. It should be a psychic superpower, like being able to see the future or something, but it's more of a pain in the ass.
No, she was calling to thank us for coming to the Barbecue and to say she was sorry she didn't really have time to sit and chat with me (because she was, y'know, hosting a party for twenty-five people). I hadn't thought anything of it, really, I was perfectly happy to talk to everybody there. I talked for a long time to a really nice lady who was a school librarian. I told her about my library days and about the tunnels under the library, leaving out the Shatner part, of course.
Anyway, Princeton's mom and I got to talking about tattoos and piercings (yes, I told her about mine, can ya believe??) because she's new to the area and I offered to take her to a good tattoo/piercing place in STL if she ever wanted to get another one. I'm anxious to get another one (or two) myself. She said that would be cool, she had about four she wanted to get. Cool.
I don't remember how we got onto the subject, but she mentioned that her sister was in an "alternative marriage." She had talked a bit about her sister and her sister's Significant Other at the Barbecue and I kinda assumed she meant something like that, alternative marriage, whatever. She said she was nervous at the time about bringing that up at the Barbecue, not knowing anything about me or what kind of family we were.
I didn't want to put you in a spot where you had to have a conversation you weren't prepared to have, she said.
I tried not to laugh. Girrrrrl, I took my kid to see Indigo Girls for cryin out loud. My kid told her PSR class to suck it on Gay People are Evil Day. I am more than cool with that topic, sister.
And I might add that that story went over quite well as I told it to the intoxicated guests of Rip's Man Cave while puffing all sexy-like on a kickass cigar. Of course I told it more like this to them:
So Princeton's mom, who is stunningly gorgeous and has a beautiful sultry voice, called and we talked for about an hour, yadda yadda yadda, I have a date to Pridefest next year!
She called me again yesterday because Princeton left his History book at school and they needed it for a study guide they had for homework. Princeton's mom and I tried to locate an online version of the book, to no avail, and I have to tell you, I got a little intimidated by her. She's cool and I like her and all, but something in my head is whispering Watch out, she's weird. Stay tuned.
Ok, I covered the election, the Cubans, my Pridefest 2009 date, and now we're caught up to yesterday. Yesterday's weird experience was in the J. Jill fitting room.
I was trying on a few things - Oh, and here's a PSA, there's an additional 25% off of Sale items right now - and I could hear the woman in the room next to me talking.
"Y'know, I like this and I think it looks nice... I don't have anything like it... I love the color, I'm pretty sure I have shoes that would match... I would have to get new undergarments, though, but that's not the end of the world...I don't know, though...I'm not sure..."
It wasn't like listening to one half of a phone conversation, and how much sense would that make anyway, talking to someone who can't see what the hell you're waffling about. I opened my door a crack to see if maybe there was a salesperson listening to her. There wasn't.
Then I sat on the little stool by my mirror and tried to peek and see if there was more than one pair of feet in there. Nope. Girlfriend is talking out loud to herself. Not like whispering to herself, no, she was talking as if someone was there. At a normal conversational volume.
And then she started talking to Jesus. Not like an exasperated sigh followed by Oh, Sweet Jeeeeezus like the rest of us. No. Actually speaking with Jesus.
"Help me, dear Jesus...I need your wisdom...I can't decide if I should buy this or not..."
Ok, I'm all for praying for important stuff, like asking God for strength so that I don't strangle my father in law when he pisses me off or for my dishes to wash themselves, but dontcha think Jesus would MUCH rather you not buy anything and give the money to starving orphans or something? What the FUCK??? Seriously!
So that was the highlight of yesterday. Today's already been interesting and it's only 9:30. I had to drive Beebie to school at 7am because yesterday was school spirit Crazy Hair Day and she put a bunch of green and blue hair paint in her hair. Last night she took a shower and I saw from across the room that she didn't get it all out, so told her to wash it again, and she said she was too tiiiiiired, she'd just do it in the morrrrrrning...
Right.
Her alarm didn't go off. She came downstairs dressed in my Kurt Warner jersey (today's Team Jersey Day) with patches of the green and blue shit still in her hair.
Beeb, you didn't get the junk out of your hair, go take a shower.
But I CAAAAAN'T!!! I don't have TIIIIIIME now!!!!
Well, did you try brushing it to get it out?
Um, YEAH. And it didn't work. I don't CARE, Mom!! It's FINE!!
Beeb, everyone's going to make fun of you - they're going to think you didn't wash your hair.
Well, OBVIOUSLY I DID because there's WAY less than there was YESTERDAY!
(Dear Jesus, please help me not kill this child.)
Beeb, there is NO way in HELL I am letting you go to school with that crap in your hair! You look ridiculous and people are going think you don't know how to wash your hair well enough. I will DRIVE you myself. Now go get in the shower.
FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!!!!
Hey, I'm trying to be NICE to you!
I helped her scrub the shit out of her hair and, still in my pajamas, I dropped her ass off at school.
Ummm... you're WELCOME!!!
The highlight of the last week was Beebie's revelation to R and me that she likes a boy at school whose name, I have decided, will be Princeton. And so, as is customary for 6th grade girls, Beeb had one of her friends ask Princeton if he liked her, and his response was something to the effect of "I don't know her very well, but I'd like to." So Friday afternoon Beeb came home with a hand-written invitation on ivory embossed card stock cordially inviting the entire Karma family to Princeton's for a Barbecue.
I don't know how familiar you are with the opening scenes of Gone With The Wind, but my imagination immediately transported me to the part where the O'Haras are on their way to Twelve Oaks for a Barbecue with Ashley Wilkes. Can't you just see the Karmas pulling up in the Odyssexy with NWA blaring and Aunt PittyPat keeling over with a case of The Vapors?
I didn't know anything about Princeton other than his Prep School-sounding name, so I had a vision of his parents being named Biff and Buffy and talking with their chins jutting forward like Thurston and Lovey Howell. This is going to be a shocker, kids, but I don't get many invitations to classy High Tea luncheons with society folk at the Club. (Oh, while I'm thinkin about it, get this - Rip recently told me he'd love to find a chick just like me, only CLASSY. Fuckin jackass.) But Beeb and I accepted the invitation, and I even offered to bring dessert.
Well, I was quite relieved to see that Princeton's mom has some rather cool Ink. And for a minute I considered whippin my nips out just to show her I'm totally down with body art, but I didn't. I did, however, drop the word Candyass just to gauge her potty mouth tolerance. I'm thinking we're gonna be okay. I got the vibe that she could be a bit of a tree-hugger/germophobe, and I kinda don't have time for that, but if that's the most annoying thing about her, I can live with it. Oh, and Bezzie, she grew up in Alaska!
Beeb has been LOVING Middle School, what with the boyfriend and everything. She likes all of her classes (Princeton's in almost all of them) and gets her locker open on the first try almost every single time. She's in Band (she plays flute, he plays percussion - can you say Band Camp Love?) and she's going out for Drama Club. She's also running for a Student Council position. She runs every year, and she's never won. Isn't that some awesome persistence? Today was the election, she should find out tomorrow if she won. Of course I'll let you know.
I've kinda been waiting for my luck to run out - at the last two school functions I fully expected to run into an archnemesis such as Shatner or Swamp Thing, but both times I've emerged unscathed. Of course, both times R was with me. Maybe shit only befalls me when I'm alone and defenseless. Or maybe that's the only time I notice it; when I'm free to wallow in self-pity.
Today was an action-packed day. First of all, I didn't sleep well so I got off to a sluggish start, but Beeb and Pie got on their busses and then I had a little time to chill before Tito's bus came. No sooner had I begun to chill, I got a text message from Rip informing me that his truck wouldn't start and he was supposed to be picking up a client at the airport in about 40 minutes.
So, true friend that I am, I got Tito in the Odyssexy, picked Rip up and hauled ass to the airport, with my gas light on the entire time, just to keep things interesting. Rip got there minutes before his client arrived and I was able to get Tito home in time to meet the bus. Why? Because I'm Penny McFuckinBadass!
If that had been the only stress of my day, it would have been more than plenty, but I also had to go back to the dentist to get my tiara ... er, crown. I didn't want them to numb me, so I sucked up the pain and got out within an hour and a half. It feels totally weird in my mouth. I'm not sure it's in there right, but fuck if I'm going back there.
I have more to write, but R bought me a new 'puter and I have to let him set it up. Stay tuned for Part Two!
Behold, two sides of the same sign. Took these pics myself.
Ah, ya can't write comedy that good. This week, the kids started school (not at this genius school, though, thankfully)!
Beeb didn't want me to take her picture. She's Too Cool. This is as close as she would let me get to her. She's the pink blur between the mailboxes.
The boys aren't old enough to be embarrassed by me yet. Here they are, right before we left for the bus stop. 
And here's Tito, all pitiful after Pie left. 
Tito and I waited for the PM kindergarten bus which is supposed to pick him up right in front of the house but hasn't managed to get there on time yet - I've had to drive him to school all week.
During the last few days I've had a little bit of time to myself. I've done less in my alone hours than I have in the mornings, dragging Tito along. Yesterday we went to the Grand Opening of a brand new Goodwill store near me (I know you're jealous, Rip!) and did extremely well. I got a kickass Crock Pot Cookbook called Fix It And Forget It that had recipes for cakes in it. CAKES! In a Crock Pot! Can ya believe??
So what did I do today? I got a new, bigger Crock Pot at Kohl's using my $10 off coupon. Regular price $54, on sale for $28, I got it for $18. You can take the stoneware part out and put it in the dishwasher! I put three frozen chicken breasts and two cans of Cream of Mushroom Soup in it at 10am and when R got home at 6 in the pm, dinner was cooked and just staying warm via the programmable settings. 
I love it more than I love my kids some days.
And I didn't run into Swamp Thing at Kohl's, either, but I was totally pulling the Swamp Thing Frogger Move the whole time. I'm sure I looked hilarious on the security video. I think Cruel Fate was cutting me a break after the Chuck E Fuckin Cheese Incident last week. Thanks for lettin' up on me, Cruel Fate, you evil cunt. I'm long overdue for some fuckin mercy.
I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to make anybody jealous, but guess who called me last week, just for the shit of it? YORKIE!!! And she sent me one of the funniest, most appropriately awesome thing for the Odyssexy.
I FUCKING LOVE THE FUCKIN FUCK OUT OF IT!!!
I intend to keep it in my pocket on the drive out to Chez Inlaw. We're going out there on Sunday for FIL's birthday. Yay. Please feel free to offer any simple, high-cholesterol, butter-intensive recipies I can make to take out there. The Aldi's will probably be there too, so hopefully there'll be some blogworthy drama that doesn't include me enduring FIL's misdirected wrath.
I was so glad to hear from Yorkie and the portable F-Bomb made my day. I've been a bit melancholy with the start of school. Whenever Beeb hits a milestone, such as starting Middle School, I can't help thinking of Beebie's friend Jack. I remember happy things about him, of course, but even when I do, I still get choked up. I keep saying I'm going to send his mom a note, and just thinking of what I want to write makes me too sad to write anything. And I never know if it's ok to tell her I miss him or if it's going to upset her, which is the last thing I want to do.
I've been kinda lonely, a little. Rip's out of town this week. I'd gotten spoiled over the stretch of a few weeks - between him coming over for Wii and Smithwicks and us going over for swimming and darts, we'd hung out almost every day and it was great. And I haven't been out with girlfriends in a while. I'm not complaining - I love being home and watching the Olympics in my jammies and eating Happy Cheese with R, but sometimes I just feel like being more social.
Haven't seen KOFA in weeks, either. I understand why - it's his choice. He's in MN for work this weekend. I normally don't talk to him much on the weekends, but lately I've been missing him. He knows.
And so, as necessity is the mother of invention, I've invented a whole new form of therapy: Laughing Baby Therapy.
How can you be sad while watching this?
One of the many blogs I read had a link I couldn't resist - White Trash Mom. I love the entire concept of White Trash, being less than a generation away from it myself. I know some may find the term offensive, but I don't. I never have. It is what it is. And it's me. I lovingly embrace that crazy, crooked branch of my family tree, held up by cinder blocks and plywood.
I've taken my kids into a Dirt Cheap liquor store right after St. Patrick's Day dinner at Old Country Buffet, for cryin' out loud. That was my application for White Trash Mom of the Year 2007.
So anyway, I'm a big fan of WhiteTrashMom.com. And last week-ish there was a contest to submit the best Work-related White Trash Mom tip. Knowing there's any kind of contest is the only invitation Penny Ubercompetive needs to suit up and put on her game face. And she WON! Below is the winning entry in the Submit Your Best White Trash Mom Tip for Working Mothers Contest.
(Keep in mind that I haven't had a job in over seven years. And I don't smoke, either.)
August 07, 2008
Winner: Best WT Mom Tip for Work
We've got a WINNER for the Best WT Mom Tip for Work!
After many days and many opinions, we decided that PENNY KARMA is the winner of the signed book copy! PENNY KARMA wins the copy of THE WHITE TRASH MOM HANDBOOK because of her excellent tip called "The Fake Freakout". Dig if you will, the WT Tip:
"A cousin of Fake Purse Escape that I've always appreciated is the Fake Freakout. Invest in a clipboard from the Dollar Store. Clip some random memos and papers with scribbles and numbers to it, and maybe add a few Post-Its for realism.
Briskly walk (but don't run - there's a fine line) around the office, looking very, very worried. Sigh audibly. Hold your head like it hurts. Roll your eyes and whisper the word UNBELIEVEABLE, over and over.
In my experience, NO ONE will want to get involved in what looks like a big nasty quagmire, so no one will ask any questions. Works great if you just need to sneak out for an unsanctioned smoke break."
Send me your address Penny Karma! We'll get you a copy of [The White Trash Mom Handbook]! Thanks for playing!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'm so thrilled! Now I'll have something to read while my kids are at school (cuz all I need is an excuse NOT to do housework - that's fuckin TEXTBOOK White Trash Mom, right there). Don't you love it??!
White Trash Parenting blends well with my own slacker style. You guys know what a perfectionist freak I can be. Well, the White Trash Mom in me is what allows me to occasionally lighten up and give myself a break. For example, Penny Perfection will stay up all night baking something spectacular for the Bake Sale whereas Penny White Trash (PWT) fully advocates spreading a little Aldi canned frosting on Aldi-bought cookies and submitting them as her own creation. Sometimes PWT needs to lay a little smackdown on Penny Perfection. THAT's what I'm talkin about.
In other news, I'd like to show you the Odyssexy's latest Battle Scar.
It's from The Battle of R vs. Manhole Surrounded by Concrete Wall. I think it adds a certain Urban Assault Vehicle element to the Odyssexy - kindof a Don't Piss Me Off, I Ain't Afraid To Scratch My Paint, MUTHAHFUGGAH!!! vibe, wouldn't you say?
Oooh, speaking of vibes (heh heh), Reason #234,568,723 why R is the best husband in the world:
You think your man's a prince for going to pick up Emergency Tampons for you when you're doubled over with cramps in the middle of the night? My man calls me from Target to ask what kind of batteries I need for one of my favorite Adult Toys You Can Play With When You're All By Yourself (or not). Wasn't so much an Adult Toy Emergency, per se, but I'll be all ready for my date with Don Draper this evening!
Ok, before you start reading this, please familiarize yourself with yesterday's post if you haven't already. And if you're new to my blog, you should also familiarize yourself with The Swamp Thing Chronicles. I'll wait.
Back? Ok. Let's begin.
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKMUTHERFUCKERFUCKINGFUCK!!!!!!!!
Who inspires more profanity-laced tirades than any other human being on the planet? I don't even have to say it, do I?
Why do I ever write anything, ever?? I knew - KNEW!!! - that the second I wrote that I had managed to evade Swamp Thing the entire summer I was inviting Cruel Fate to bitchslap me upside the head. And Cruel Motherfucking Fate just about left me unconscious and twitching in a fucking ditch.
Minutes after I posted yesterday, I took Pie to a birthday party for three kids from school. I didn't realize these children were triplets (What are the chances that two of my three children would have friends who were triplets??), and if I had clued into that fact, I would have remembered that these are the triplets who live directly across the street from The Swamp. Camille is pretty tight with this crew.
Pie didn't mention this until we were en route to Chuck E Fuckin Cheese. My sudden awareness of the possibility of running into Swamp Thing? Two words, kids: Instant Diarrhea.
I stealthily made my way to the party table, introduced myself and Pie to the triplets' dad, and beelined it the fuck out of there, top speed.
R got home from work and I told him about the irony of what I'd blogged earlier and how it very well could come round and bite me in my dimpled white ass. I begged him to go pick Pie up at the party so I wouldn't have to. R reminded me that I had gotten the little hand stamp when I dropped him off, identifying myself as the only one who could take Pie home.
Fuckin security measures...
So I pulled into the parking lot and saw the Swamp Van. FUCK. I wished I had some sort of disguise, like even the Groucho glasses with the nose and mustache. Anything. I had nothing but a Bud Light hat snatched from Rip, so I pulled that down over my eyes. It was the best I could do.
I tiptoed in and before I had even gotten all the way through the door, Camille greeted me by shrieking and waving wildly from the pedal-copter.
HIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, SARAH!!!!!!
(Shut up, ya little shit. ) Hi, sweetie!
I scanned the room for Pie, hoping to grab him by the elbow and bolt out of there like two bats out of hell. I spotted him by the Skeeball, and as my binocular vision zoomed out, I saw her. There was no way to get to Pie without walking past her.
See, the problem with my peppering my posts with variations of the word Fuck all the time is that when something's Super Duper Off-the-Charts Fucked Up and I am Beyond Fuckin Pissed, I don't have another word to communicate it. It's already like the queen mother of 4-letter words. What do you say when you want to kick it up a notch? This amp doesn't go to Eleven, Nigel. Where do you go from FUCK????
FUCKFUCKFUCKMOTHERFUCKINGFUCKFUCKITFUCKME
FUCKERFUCKFUCKITYFUCKFUH-HUH-HUH-HUCK.
I figured I could pull a move like something out of Frogger - hide behind a group of people and move to somewhere I could hide until another group I could hide behind walked by and thusly make my way from one end of the game area to the other without attracting the attention of the Swamp Thing. I found a group to walk with, only they zigged when I zagged and I was totally screwed, right in front of the one person in this world I least wanted to run into.
Other than Shatner. At least I'm pretty sure Shatner isn't going to say anything to me.
Well, HEEEEEEEEEEEEY, Stranger!!
(I fuckin WISH I was a stranger... ) Oh, hey!
When I'm stuck like a deer in headlights, the polite person I am (polite person, nonconfrontational pussy - poTAYto, poTAHto) defaults into Make Stupid Conversation mode, even though I know better than to give her an invitation to speak. The concept of Invitation means nothing to her. SHE SHOWED UP AT MY HOUSE. SHE WALKED IN MY WALK-IN CLOSETS. SHE IS JUST ALL KINDS OF HORRIBLE.
And there she was, across from me. I kept imagining how fulfilling it feel if I were to puke on her shoes.
But I didn't. I saw Pie walking toward me with a handful of tickets to cash in, so I hurdled one of her twins, grabbed Pie by the wrist and swiftly darted through the sea of overstimulated children to the Prize Counter. Fortunately, Pie had only a few tickets so his choices were limited, but any one who's ever taken a kid to any Pizza and Prizes outfit knows that it can take a full ten minutes to choose between the whistle and the fuckin spider ring.
Meanwhile, I was experiencing serious paranoia. My heart was pounding. I kept looking over my shoulder. Please, please, please, God, let me out of here before I have to deal with her.
Pie. Dude. Seriously, let's go...
Pie made his selection and we flew out of there like our asses were on fire. He asked me why we were running through the parking lot.
I just want to get home. I, um, really, really miss Dad.
On the way home, Pie told me something Camille had told him. She said that her mother told her she calls our house ALL THE TIME and we NEVER pick up the phone.
That is a blatant lie.
Ok, it's true that if she DID call I probably wouldn't pick up the phone, but apparently she has no idea how Caller ID works because I would obviously know if she had called me, and I haven't seen her number on it but once all summer.
I hate it when people lie to their kids. And in this case, she's totally making ME out to be the asshole in the situation. And I'm SOOOOOOOO not the asshole. I couldn't Out-Asshole the Swamp Thing if I wanted to.
Is Out-Asshole a verb? Well, it fuckin is now.
I'm feeling kinda incoherent today. Bear with me. Or, if you prefer, bare with me. Bare whatever you want.
Missouri now requires kindergarteners and first graders (if they didn't have it done in kindergarten) to get an eye exam before they start school. How convenient; I just happen to have an extra $120 lying around that I didn't know what I was going to do with. Whoopee.
Turns out, lil Tito Mosquito has some wicked astigmatism in his right eye and he needs glasses. WalMart Optical's having a big back-to-school sale, so the glasses actually cost less than the exam.
Tell me he's not the cutest damn thing you ever saw.
Finally finished obtaining all of the kids' school supplies. I can't believe school starts Wednesday. OH!!!! I forgot to mention that Pie's best buddy John will be in his class, and Camille (aka Swamp Thing Jr.) will NOT. And I managed to get through the entire summer with almost ZERO Swamp Thing Contact. I never did return her call, and I just don't feel the least bit bad about it. I just hope Swampy doesn't decide that because they're not in the same class, we will need to plan regular play dates. I am feeling a little more assertive lately; I may just tell her that being around her stresses me out more than I can stand.
(Stop laughing, everyone who knows what a nonconfrontational pussy I am.)
Next - Health News.
I recently read something interesting about the side effects of Generic Wellbutrin.
I felt obligated to say publicly that I've taken the generic Wellbutrin (from the manufacturer mentioned on the message board) for years and I personally haven't experienced side effects that are any different from the ones I had on the actual name brand Wellbutrin. I've had some headaches, but I don't necessarily attribute them to the meds. And I've actually lost weight. But I will pay closer attention to how I'm feeling, now that I've been back on the meds for a little while.
Moving on - Anti-Stella Baby Watch. 
Dammit, woman, I'm sick of waiting on you. Drop that kid, already. You're starting to piss me off. I don't have time to hang around to find out if Baby O is an Oliver or an Olivia. I need to start knitting a pair of booties now if I want them done before Baby O is in third grade. But if you're just going to be selfish and make me and the whole world wait to find out who's cookin in there, whatever. You know I'd never make you wait nine months to find out what I was having. Of course, if I somehow got pregnant now that R's been snipped, I'd probably have to move in with you guys. Scooch over, Trav!
Finally, a pop quiz -
Who's your favorite Jonas Brother?
So this morning as I was driving Pie to his camp 30 minutes from home, I popped a little teeny piece of gum in my mouth to counter the heinous cereal breath I was about to unleash on the unsuspecting camp counselors. It wasn't even a whole piece. And it was Trident - which isn't really as big as Extra, for example.
I had kept it on just one side of my mouth (the side without the temporary crown on it). I tried not to even chew it, really. I just kinda rolled it against the roof of my mouth with my tongue and tried to somehow suck all the peppermint out of it and distribute it evenly inside my mouth so my breath wouldn't offend. I was only thinking of others. And I was trying to be good, I swear.
And I accidentally chewed it in exactly the wrong spot. And my temporary crown fell off, very gently, into a soft, sticky, neon blue bed.
FUCK.
So I called in and told them that it came out when I was eating a bagel. And they squeezed me in at noon. Thank GOD the crown came out intact, if I had had to do those impressions again, seriously, I would have had sumthin to fuckin SAY about that. Except that it was my own stupid fault.
FUCK FUCK FUCK. I'm such a dumbass.
So I put the crown in the cupholder of my van and continued to chew the aforementioned piece of gum. I figured not a whole lot was going to happen now that the worst already had.
Came home and got a call from the boys' school. Remember how I was going to be SO lonely in the mornings? Not anymore. They had to move Tito to PM Kindergarten. Last year we were on the AM bus route, and I drove Pie every day so he could go to PM kindergarten and so I could hang out with him in the mornings.
This year they changed the bus route and now we're on PM. I asked if I could drive Tito like I drove Pie, and they said no, the class sizes are just too big. Which means I won't be alone in the mornings after all. I will, however, be free from about 12:30 to 2:45. Better than nothing, I guess.
It also means that Beeb will be home before the boys will so she can take care of things until R gets home, which would actually allow me to take a part-time job if I wanted to. So at first I was kinda pissed off that my Mommy Mornings were snatched out of my hands before I even had a chance to enjoy them, but maybe I'll be able to hang out with grownups now.
So I had to go back to the dentist at noon. And this time I was in and out in about 45 minutes. Again, I took photos.
Because I'm such a rebel. 
No, Dr. Ring, I swear it wasn't gum...
Ok, it was gum. 
EXTRA STRENGTH CEMENT this time.
And where did I go, directly from the dentist's office? To Trader Joe's. Since fresh breath is a priority in my life and I can't have gum, I got myself some Altoids.
And Caramel Corn. Shhhhhhh....
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I like my dentist. She's a nice person. She's a mom. She has great stories, and she's really funny.
I just don't especially like it when she sticks needles and drills in my face. Or when she me to lay off the caramels.
I've said this a million times. I'd prefer a trip to the gynocologist over a trip to the dentist ANY day. Here's why. Statistically speaking, I figure there's a far greater chance that I'm going to get bad news at the dentist than at the gyno. Bad news on a much smaller scale - not saying a root canal is a traumatic as a colposcopy (look it up, gentlemen), but they're not entirely dissimilar - you get what I'm saying, don't you? I'm more likely to be called out on what the dental profession would consider risky behavior (such as my relationship with Chocolate Reisens) than any risky behavior the gyno would scold me for (such as having sex with strangers).
When I go to the gyno, I feel like I don't have a whole lot to worry about. I don't fear STD's, for example. I know the sexual history of everyone I'm sleeping with (read: R). I'm pretty sure I'm not going to have any major bombs dropped on me when I go in to get my cobwebs cleared out. Well, there was that one time when the nurse told me "I'd say you're about five months along!" when I had gone in thinking I had cancer, but I doubt that's going to happen to me twice.
Basically, when something's up with yer cooter, you might at least have an inkling, right? Itchy rash, oozing pustules; there are clues.
NOTE: I'm in no way saying you can (or should) skip your annual Spread N' Scrape unless you're experiencing painful urination. Of course there things like cervical and ovarian cancers and other stuff that don't have obvious symptoms, and you should definitely get yourself checked out. I'm not making light of it in any way, so don't get your speculum in a knot. I'm even saying I PREFER the gyno, personally.
At the dentist's office, you don't always know when you have the beginnings of something that's going to suck. I've come in for a routine cleaning and gone home with four fillings I had no idea I needed. I HATE that. And you might go in thinking that you floss your gums deep enough, but you go home with a WHOLE new appreciation for just exactly how far down that floss can go. Yuck.
Sometime last Sunday night, part of my back tooth broke off. I never even felt it. I must have swallowed my filling and half of my tooth. It feels sooo weird, running my tongue over it. So today I'm getting it fixed. Wish me luck.
Yesterday the Apes finally met one of my oldest (in terms of time, not age) friends, T. T's a stud. I met T around the same time that I met Shatner, actually, and in the same place - the library. I know I've written about T before. He's a class act.
And guess where we went? GRANT'S FARM!!! Where the beer is cold and free.
And the fashion statements are unforgettable. 
