Of Dreams and Nightmares.

Don't you love it when new characters enter my life and you can just tell they're going to be fun to read about? Well, brace yourselves, Bitches. Today we're introducing someone new to the BMB cast.

But first, I have to tell you about my weekend. I had agreed to take part in a study for a market research company. I'm signed up with a bunch of different companies, and every once in a while they'll call me and ask me a bunch of questions to see if I qualify for whatever demographic they're looking for.

This time I got a call asking if I'm a registered voter and if I'm planning to vote in the upcoming presidential election.

Um, yeah...

And if the election were held today...

Undecided.

Great! You qualify to take part in our study...blah blah blah... pays a hundred dollars.

Awesome. I'm there.

Terrific! We'll see you Friday at 7! Bye!


Oh, SHIT, wait a minute. They're gonna ask me my opinion or something. Ok, breathe deeply... when it's your opinion there's no right or wrong answer, right? Well, true, but you can still make an ass of yourself.

That night I had a dream. I've been having really vivid dreams recently. I dreamed that I was having this torrid affair with Don Draper (Jon Hamm's character in Mad Men) and his wife Betty was angrily confronting me with all kinds of forensic evidence and a poster board with diagrams and 8x10 color glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was, to be used as evidence against me. (HUGE cool points if you catch the reference in there.)

And of course, instead of thumping my chest and singing BOOM I GOT YOUR BOYFRIEND! I GOT YOUR MAN! I totally pussed out and asked if we can't all just get along because it's a small town and I'm bound to run into you at the market. Let's put the fact that I boned your husband within an inch of his life behind us, ok, Bets? Love your hair, by the way.

But that's not the dream I wanted to tell you about. I also had a dream in which I hugged Barack Obama. Sweetly, not icky or even remotely sexual or anything like that. A little longer than you'd hug a friend, sure, but totally not a Lewinsky thing. It was just him and me in a room like a library or maybe an office. No one else around. And I hugged him warmly and it felt very comforting. The weird part is how weird it didn't seem at the time.

Ok, so Friday night rolled around and I went to the place for the study. There were about 60 people there, and I was at a table with four other people, including a woman I'd sold something to on Craigslist once and the husband of the woman who was my sponsor when I went through the RCIA thing you have to do when you Formally Become Catholic. As soon as I recognized him, I SO wished I'd brought my copy of The Ethical Slut as reading material.

So at our table we tried to figure out what the format was going to be for this study. And somebody said they'd heard we would be watching...

wait for it...

THE DEBATE.

Fuck. This is total Karma for my ditching Buffy on her Let's Listen To A Conference Call With Michelle Obama invitation. This is a nightmare. But at least there's food.

And then the lady across from me came back from the food table with a big ol' smelly pickle. I quickly scanned the room for Satan and Saddam Hussein because I was pretty sure I was in Hell. No, I'm alive, I'm just surrounded by two of my least favorite things in the world - Pickles and Politics.

So we spent nearly two hours watching the debate and turning a knob to any number between 0 and 100 to represent our reaction to what we were hearing (0 = very unfavorable, 100 = very favorable). Normally, my brain automatically clicks off as soon as I hear the word FEDERAL, because the word itself is a pretty good indicator that I'm probably not going to understand anything that follows it.

I know I dozed off at one point. I'm not used to being up that late. It was after 9pm, you know.

And then here's the best part. Based on their reactions to various parts of the debate, ten people were selected to stay after the debate for another focus group which would last about half an hour, and pay an additional fifty dollars.

Guess who got picked.

If someone asks me what I think about something I really have no idea what I'm talking about, I'll blather on and on and eventually I'll talk myself out of my own opinion. If I could remember what I said, I'd tell you, but I can't - other than that my favorite part of the debate was when Senator Obama said he had a bracelet too. I went home 3 hours later, $150 dollars richer, and physically drained.


And now, I shall introduce our new character.

I offered to volunteer at the boys' school library. I worked at the library at Beeb's school for a few years and I loved it, so I thought this would be a volunteer job I'd like. I arrived cheerful and enthusiastic, confident that I could handle any task they'd put in front of me.

And then I met The Book Nazi. She's actually Chinese (and please don't think I'm being politically incorrect when I quote her broken English, ok? It's not like I said broken Engrish.), so the word Nazi doesn't really seem right. I'm leaning toward maybe The Dragon because she's Chinese and scary and the library is her Lair, but for now, suffice it to say that she's every bit as big a ballbuster as The Church Nazi is.

Oh, GET THIS SHIT - speaking of The Church Nazi, last Sunday we skipped some Required event we were supposed to go to so my kids can go to Heaven. I knew we'd missed it, I didn't care, I KNEW The Church Nazi was going to call and bitch me out, and I was prepared for it.

Today she called MY CELL (Now, I KNOW I didn't give her that number, why the fuck would I do that??), and as soon as she went into "Hi, Mrs. Karma, this is The Church Nazi, and I was calling about the Mandatory..." I cut her off.

CUT THE BITCH OFF.

Yeah, actually, we're leaving the parish.

You're... You're what???

We're LEAVING. THE. PARISH.

Oh, er, well, have you called the Rectory to inform them?

(Huhhuhhuh... she said Rectory) Not yet, but I plan to.

So then, did you want to be... removed from our program?

Yes. YES.

I didn't even say Please.

It was a moment I've dreamed of for years. And it was every bit as absolutely fucking beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. But I digress.

I was immediately put to work putting new scanner labels on the Berenstain Bears books. She showed me where to stick the labels, and it seemed pretty self-explanatory. So I stuck stickers for an hour or so. Until suddenly...

NO NO NO NO!!! YOU DO IT ALL WRONG!!

She scared the crap outta me.

Ok, here's a pic I just happened to snap that day, just to show the world what a sexy librarian I am. Note the label on the book. See how it doesn't cover up the title of the book? Like any normal person would have done it, right?



NO NO NO! It go in the CORNER just like I show you!

Well, I was just trying not to cover up the title...

Does not MATTER you cover up the title!

Ohhh...Kaaaay... I just figured you'd want the kids to be able to...

DOES NOT MATTER!! IN THE CORNER!!!

Got it. Sorry. Won't happen again. Shit!

It quickly became apparent to me that they do things a lot differently at this library than at the one I used to work at. I'm used to checking in books as they come in and then putting them on a reshelving cart and sorting them later. She wants me to sort them into ten different piles as they come in. Ok, whatever, you want piles all over the desk, I can deal with that.

At the old library, there was a card catalog by the door and each child had their own card with their name on it. So when it was time for them to check out their books, they could scan their card, which would bring up their information, then I could check the books out to them, hand them over and they'd be on their merry way.

Here, the kids show up at the desk, and I have to ask them for their last name so I can physically type it in. And more than once, The Dragon interrupted them and I couldn't hear either of them. It slowed me down (for which I got scolded by The Dragon - HURRY! HURRY! LONG LINE!!!) and it really pissed me off. Look, don't get on me for being too slow when you're part of the reason why I'm not going as quickly as I could. It's my first day, I don't know any of these kids' names... cut me some fuckin slack, lady.

Oh, and the other thing they do that I'm not used to is stamping the due date on the little Date Due Post-it Note lookin thing stuck in the back of the book. I didn't know libraries even used them anymore. Anyway, because another part of the check-out process is stamping the date stamp, The Dragon is constantly standing right behind me stamping date stamps and breathing her evil fire breath down my neck while I'm sitting at the check-out desk asking kids to spell their last names.

In short, my first day was not the fun, pleasant experience I'd had at the other library. Not even close. So this Tuesday when I was supposed to go back, I was seriously dreading it. I didn't want to return to the Dragon's Lair. She scared me. I thought about calling in sick, but then, eternal optimist that I am, I thought, well, maybe it'll be better today.

And it started out better, really. But then a little girl came in and asked if something her teacher in Room 17 wanted had printed yet. I had heard something print a few minutes earlier, so I went to the printer across from my desk, and went through the output pile.

Do you know what it is she printed?

No...

All right then, let's look... it wouldn't be a kindergarten spelling list; you look older than that... well, the only things left are these two pages, go see if these are what she wanted.

Ok.

Now, I didn't tell her to bring back whatever the pages were if they weren't what the teacher wanted, but I figured that'd be the common sense thing to do, right? And the pages didn't contain anything confidential or anything. I don't know what they were, but they didn't look too important to me.

So the girl comes back a few minutes later and asks me again for whatever the teacher printed. This time I asked the other librarian, the nicer one (which is what I should have done in the first place, I KNOW, but I kinda thought I had it covered since that was the only printer I could see).

There's another printer. This time we got the teacher the right thing. And all was well with the world and I forgot all about it.

Then, at a reasonably tranquil moment toward the end of my shift, I saw her over at the printer I'd gone to the first time, thumbing through the printed pages.

Instant.
Fucking.
Diarrhea.

Shit. SHIT!!! I knew she was going to ask me if I went through the printouts and what I did with them, and before I would even get a word out she'd burn a hole right through me with her red hot lazer eyes.

Now, I could probably could have told the truth; that I'd mistakenly given them to the Room 17 girl because I didn't know there was another printer - and I probably could have located the pages if pressed, but I didn't really feel like being pressed, and I KNEW she'd turn it into a way bigger ordeal than it needed to be and she'd tell me I should have known better, like I'm seven.

So I sat at the desk looking dumb. I'm awesome at it.

At one point she turned around and looked in my direction and I got a cold chilly feeling all over like she was gonna call me out, but she didn't say anything.

When it comes down to it, I'm a fuckin volunteer. And I can quit. But I won't. And why? So you can look forward to reading about The Dragon every week. It's all about YOU, really.

You're welcome, Bitches.

Here's what the kids are doing at school.

Before we begin, I apologize for the quality of these pictures - I would have scanned the papers but the scanner's not hooked up to the new 'puter, so I took pics with my phone. Moving on -


Tell me this isn't just a strange choice of words:



Because when you think Penny, you think Two Large Circles, dontcha? Well, depends on how well you know me. Wink. Wink.

I'm particularly tickled by the concept of Grab all the Penny you can fit in one hand and the rest of Penny in the other hand. And c'mon, who wouldn't kill to have their hands fulla Penny?


Next up, Pie brought home the First Grade Newsletter yesterday.



I know it's hard to read, but the first line of it says, In Language Arts will will be working on words with the "CK" sound. I can't wait to see that spelling list.

God, I'm so fuckin immature.

The rest of the newsletter might say And on Thursday in Science, we're blowing up puppies for all I care, as long as I know my kids are learning Suck Cock and Lick Dick and Prick. Fuck yeah!!

I know I enjoy working on those words, personally. I love this school district.

Oh, and while we're on the subject of four-letter vulgarities (and, let's be honest, when am I NOT on the subject of four-letter vulgaries? I'm like Samuel L. Muthahfuggin Jackson, muthahfuggah), if you're going to censor a word, don't put the star and THEN the letter!! Behold.



I wonder if Drick's on the spelling list.


Ah, it's always exciting when kids learn to spell. Captions really enhance the creepiness in their artwork.

Pop Quiz! Or three!

You Are Argentina

You are a set of contradictions, and it often seems like you live in two worlds. You are introspective yet outgoing. You are modern yet traditional. You are warm and honest. Your life is petty much an open book. You are a hard worker, and you don't mind putting in long hours. And then you'll go party til dawn!

What Country Are You?

I actually agree that I'm a collection of contradictions.

Your Kiss is Orange

For you, kissing is all about pushing the envelope. You're a wild kisser. And you don't have to know someone all that well to kiss them. (You figure that's how you'll get to know one another!) While you may be impulsive with who you kiss, there's nothing random about your kissing technique. Kissing Type: Unconventional People See Your Kisses as: Intoxicating You Kiss Best With: A Red Kisser Stay away from: A Pink Kisser

What Color Is Your Kiss?

Better be sure you want to kiss me.
Because I believe in commitment. Dedication. Focus.

You Are Stalking

You tend to be very obsessive. Once you focus your attention on something or someone, it's all you think about. You are also very secretive. People don't know much about the life that you lead. You are attracted to weak people. You may want to prey on them, but you also may just want to help them. You need attention, and you can get desperate if you aren't getting attention from the right person. You'll do about anything to get noticed.

What Felony Are You?

Darts with Rip

Look what Rip can do:



Impressive, yes?


But look what I can do:



Sadly, there's no photographic evidence of me actually hitting a dartboard.

HAMMFEST!

Ok, so Jon didn't win the Emmy Award for Outstanding Lead Actor, but MAD MEN won Outstanding Dramatic Series!!! Which was actually better because the whole cast got on the stage and John Slattery (Roger Sterling)



and Christina Hendricks (Joan Holloway) both looked absolutely stunning.




So, just cuz he's gorgeous, and because, as yet, it's a slow news day at Chez Karma (of course, it's not even 7am yet - check back later), here's some Hot Hamm Luvvin.



Mmmmmmmmmm.

Fun With Photoshop

Thank God they got rid of the Old Anus burgers.
They tasted like ass.

Calls To And From Teachers

Which of my Apes would you expect to be most likely to get a phone call home?

Give up? Tito. My kindergartener.

I about had a heart attack when I saw that the school had called and left a message. I was in the grocery store and I hadn't heard the phone buzz. Oops. So I call the school, tell her I'm Tito Karma's mom and his teacher had left a message for me, and the woman in the office tells me, "Oh, I think it was... (dramatic pause)
Another Bus Incident."

Another? There'd been An Incident previously?? What kind of Incident are we talking about? Was the bus driver drunk? Was there an attempted Busjacking? You can't just tell me there was An Incident. Cuz now I'm gonna stew about it until somebody gives me some details. Ugh, I HATE that. I had to stew for a couple of hours.

The teacher called me back just as Tito was coming in the front door. Apparently, Tito has a little problem selecting a seat on the bus and STAYING IN IT for the duration of the bus ride. Ok, I said, I'll talk to him.

And then...

"Oh, while I have you on the phone, Mrs. Karma..."

(Oh, SHIT. Here's when my mind instinctively goes into Expect The Worst Case Scenario mode.)

"Today I gave Tito a reading assessment."

Oh my God, he's dyslexic. I knew it.

"I just wanted to let you know, Tito did fantastic. He read the 6th grade word list. He read words like Aggravate and Apparatus."

Appafuckinratus. That's just hysterical.

I don't know how I didn't say Holy Fucking Shit out loud, but I didn't. I think I laughed. The thing is, Tito is every bit as smart as Beebie and Pie, he's just a lot less verbal so it's a little less obvious. Unlike the other Apes, he doesn't seem to want you to know what he knows. He may just be smarter than all of them, really, when I think about it, because he knows that if he shows you he can do something, you're going to make him do it. Like how if I knew he knew how to do laundry, I'd make him do all of the laundry.
Yeah, Tito's no dummy.

A funny but unrelated tangent that occurred to me after the phone call - Tito and Pie both love to create comic books. They make up heroes and villains and scenarios and even sequels. Pie makes up all kinds of heroes. Tito mainly writes about one: SUCCESSMAN. I don't really know where that came from, but doesn't it conjure up an image of some dude in a business suit with his Briefcase of Doom? The last comic Tito wrote was entitled Successman #2 - Robot Attack. He spelled Successman like Sksmn, but he spelled Robot and Attack correctly, all on his own. Crazy.

So Tito's got his shit together, and he's going to keep his ass parked on the bus next time. He promises.

Then this morning, while we were waiting for the bus, Pie informed me that yesterday another boy in his class climbed under a bathroom stall and watched Pie on the toilet. (Pie sits down to pee because of his big belly. I don't think he's ever actually seen his own penis.)

I'll give you a second to form your opinion. Normal curiousity for a first-grade boy, or completely fucking creepy?

I might be convinced that it was not a big deal, but the other boy told Pie not to tell on him. Which, to me, clearly indicates that the other kid KNEW he was doing something wrong.

I have to give myself some Mom Props on this one, y'all. I remained calm, and I asked Pie how he wanted to handle the situation without pressuring him either way. Pie said he thought he should tell the teacher. I offered to send the teacher an email, just to let her know that I was aware of the situation.

There were some different schools of thought represented among the friends I first told this story to, and I appreciate the ones who took the Devil's Advocate point of view. I KNOW that the school is going to treat it as a Sexual Harrassment thing because they have to. And that might be a bit over the top, sure, but I know I would absolutely want to know if one of my kids crawled under a bathroom stall to watch another kid pee and then told the pee-er not to tell the teacher.

I don't think the other kid necessarily needs to be punished, unless this isn't the first time he's done it, in which case I'd hope they took him to some sort of counseling. I don't know if I'd punish my boys if they were the Understall Crawlers, beyond a stern Dude, That's Kinda Inappropriate lecture.

I'm a little afraid that I overreacted, given the route that I know the school is going to take. But I couldn't do Nothing, either. I don't want Pie to think for one minute that it's ok for someone to watch him go to the bathroom. Yeah, he could have kicked the kid in the head or something, but he didn't. And he couldn't exactly stop peeing, get up, and politely tell the other kid that he was just uncomfortable with the idea - he was past the point where he was committed, ya know?

And yeah, we're a Bathroom Door Is Always Open family, but that grew out of necessity - YOU have two babies in less than eleven months and good luck peeing in private ever again. That's all I'm tryin' to say.

Anyway, I got this email back from the teacher:

Dear Mrs. Karma,

Thank you for letting me know of the situation between Pie and the other child. I spoke with both children to hear each side of the story. Pie was correct and the other child's parents will be contacted. The School Counselor will also take care of this situation as well. Pie was brave to tell me the truth. I am very proud of him! Thank you again for making me aware.


Taking care of Buffy's Baby, I must say, was totally boring by comparison. Buffy refers to her daughter as Angel Poo. Thought you all might appreciate that.

She invited us to another Barbecue. But Get This - it's the same day as the Hayride at Chez Inlaw. So I get to decide if I want to spend the day feeling like an idiot with Zero Global Perspective or just a Complete Failure as a Parent.

That's a real toss-up.

The Return of Swamp Thing! (but at least she didn't return to ME this time)

I occasionally screen my calls. I admit it. Don't take it personally (I would never not talk to anyone who reads this blog), but sometimes I just don't feel like talking to certain people so I don't answer my phone. Is it the law that I have to pick it up just because it rings?

I am, however, always thrilled to hear the ringtone that belongs to Anti-Stella. BRICK HOUSE. I put a great deal of thought into the ringtones I choose for my friends, and Brick House totally suits her. The woman is Might-ay Might-ay.

Two words, kids - Natural Childbirth. She is my hero. She is Woman; Hear Her Roar. And now, with four children ages 6 and under, In Numbers Too Big To Ignore.

I hadn't talked to her since the blessed arrival of the lovely Miss Olivia, so I was particularly tickled to hear from her. Here is a paraphrased transcript of the conversation:

ME: Oh my God! Hey, you! How are you??

A-S: (in an uncharacteristically stern yet hushed voice)
SHE FOUND ME.

ME: What?? Olivia found you? Are you hiding from your baby already?? Jeeezus, Sheri, what kind of parent...

A-S: No, no. SHE. FOUND. ME.

ME: (knowing she's way too nice a person to say a word like this, I said it for her, cuz I'm a true friend) Oh, SHIT, dude.

Apparently, Anti-Stella's Swamp-Free lucky streak has run out and The Thing has found someone other than me to annoy. I've managed to avoid seeing her at school functions, somehow, but Swamp Thing's twin sons, Walker and Texas Ranger, now go to Mom's Day Out with Anti-Stella's penultimate child, Maddox.

If I'm remembering the story right - and Anti-Stella, please correct me if I'm not - Swamp Thing opened with a remark about Anti-Stella's recent weight gain. Something to the effect of "Wow, haven't seen you in a year! My, you've gotten biiiig!" The exact verbage on this was interesting, but I can't remember what it was verbatim.

Anti-Stella quite appropriately pointed out the fact that she'd had a baby a not even a month ago. (Cut 'er some fuckin slack!! She's still gorgeous!) And one can only assume that the aforementioned baby was somewhere in plain view when Swamp Thing made her bitchy weight comment. Dumbass.

So then she sees Baby Girl and asks Anti-Stella her name. Olivia. Olivia is her name.

Swamp Thing says she doesn't like it.

Not only is the woman a Dumbass, she's a fucking RUDE Dumbass.

Who tells someone they don't like their baby's name? Her point was that it didn't go with Anti-Stella's boys' names, which sound a bit like the Jolie-Pitt boys' names (not a criticism, they're uncommon and cool), and Olivia was just too plain.

Anti-Stella could easily have made the comment that she didn't like Swamp Thing's new and unflattering overtly butch haircut, but again, Anti-Stella's a nice, turn-the-other-cheek sort of person. The fact that I'm not snickering to myself right now and thinking "better you than me, love" should be evidence that I'm not a heartless twat, right? Nah, I'm just way too afraid of tempting fate.

Case in point...

Care to guess why I was screening my calls yesterday? Buffy. Last night was Michelle Obama night and because I purposely hadn't committed myself one way or the other (because I didn't want her to think I was a dork for not really wanting to go and I obviously didn't want to out myself as the idiot that I am if I did go), I very immaturely decided to avoid that confrontation completely by just ignoring Buffy. I'm a total pussy, I know.

Trust me, you don't want me on the OBAndwagon. I'm a total moron, I'll do more harm than good because I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about and I don't want anyone to call me out, so I'll just sit in the back with my beverage nodding and smiling, thankyouverymuch.

Shit, get this - seconds ago, AS I WAS TYPING, my phone rang - Buffy - and I had to answer it because I agreed to watch her baby tomorrow and I needed to find out what time I had to be ready. You'll be proud of me for declining on the Ongoing Childcare Invitation, but only because she asked me directly. Thank God I got out of that. She did offer to pay me, but still... it would cut into my blogging time, and I'm not about to do that to you, my darlings.

So it appears I'm watching Princeton's baby sister for a few hours tomorrow morning.

Potential Blogfodder Factor (hereafter known as PBF):
A muthahfuggin ELEVEN.

Stains To Explain

Beeb wasn't feeling well when she got home from school the other day, so she decided to lay down and take a rest in my bed. Why not her own bed? Because I have cable in my room. Fine, whatever, it's cool. Hope you feel better, Beebie. I'm gonna go play Wii Fit and kick Dad's ass at Ski Jump some more.

I'm in the middle of Hula Hooping, and I hear...

"OH MY GOD, GROSS!!!! MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHM!!!!"

Scared the shit outta me, cuz I know she's in my bed and instantly I'm envisioning the horse head scene in Godfather. I don't think anybody's got that kind of ill will against me, though. Or if they do, I don't know it. Ignorance is bliss, right?

"Whaaaaaaaaat???!!?"

"Come HERE!!!"

"Ummm... okay..."

So I come into my room and Beeb's all the way over on one side of the bed - R's side - and scowling.

"Mom, I was laying here, minding my own business, and I found THIS ICKY SPOT."

We have brown sheets on the bed. And there, in the area she was pointing to, was clearly a sex stain.

Shit. Think fast, Mom.

"Oh, I think that's where I... um... blew my nose."

"You BLEW your NOSE on the sheets? Why would anybody DO that???"

Wow, that's scary - she sounds EXACTLY like me. How many times a day do I discover something one of the Apes has done and ask myself out loud why anyone would do whatever that particular Ape just did? (Like wipe their Ice Cream Sandwich-covered fingers on the bathroom wall?)

And please keep in mind that this stain isn't up at the top of the bed. No. It's more like where my ass would be. So if she's believing my story, I contorted my body in a way that placed my head just about at the center of the bed just prior to my unfortunate realization that there were no Kleenex handy.

"Well, it was an Emergency..."

Hell, if you're gonna say what I usually say, I'm going to respond the way YOU usually respond.

"The middle of the bed, Mom? That's so nasty! It's all crusty! How are you supposed to sleep with that there??"

(Well, usually I make Daddy sleep in the wet spot, if you really want to know.)

"Hey, it's MY bed, and I'll blow my nose on it if I need to. And if you don't like it, then feel free to get out of my bed."

When I sense that the kids aren't believing my bullshit, I'll play the I'm The Boss And You're Not card. It usually works as far as getting them to shut up.

"I thought maybe you and Dad were eating cereal in bed and you spilled some milk or something."

Now why couldn't I have thought of that??

Pot Roast, Porn, and Politics. (Or Why I am a Stellar Friend.)

I love that Rip lives a stone's throw from my house and sends me text messages inviting me and The Karma Fam to spontaneous dinners at le Chateau de Jean-Phillipe. It's a pretty classy place; I don't know how I get past the tight security.

But even more than I love going over to CJP, I love having someone close by that I can do nice things for. I love to do nice things for my most cherished friends, and I don't even mind going out of my way to do them (like bringing Xanax for a friend of a friend while blasting NWA's classic Dopeman in the Odyssexy), but it's awesome when it's the Hey, I'm going to Target - need anything? brand of convenient.

Doing nice things for cool people gives me extreme, sincere joy. And Rip's cool as hell, y'all - totally worthy. So cool, in fact, that I took the man some porn DVD's (Can you believe the guy didn't own ANY porn? Shit, even I own porn, that I bought FOR MYSELF.) for a date he had that evening. And the following day I had made way too much dinner and I didn't want it to go bad (we weren't going to eat it because we had dinner plans the next night), so I delivered Rip half of the delicious pot roast I made in my Crock Pot.

By delivered, I mean while the man was at soccer practice with his daughter, I went to his house and placed said pot roast in his refridgerator. I have full backstage-pass access, and I will never abuse it. I use it to keep Rip well-fed and well, er... stimulated.

Pot Roast and Porn delivered to your door. TELL me I'm not the fucking best friend a person could POSSIBLY have.

Need a kidney? I have an extra. You probably wouldn't want my liver, though, unless you wring the Blue Moon and Smithwick's out of it first. I gotta say Rip's pretty good to me too, keeping my liver pickled and helping me hone my dart-throwing skills.

Yeah, I'm a fucking awesome friend to have. So awesome, in fact, that Buffy apparently wants in on the action. She called me the other day just to shoot the shit and I didn't realize that she was unaware of my stay-home mom status. Oops. Can't exactly un-ring that bell, can I?

"Oh! You stay home? I didn't know that!!! That's GREAT! We'll have to get together!"

Great. Super. FUUUUUCK.

Through the course of the conversation, we talked a bit about our educational backgrounds. I mentioned that I used to teach high school English and I hated it. She mentioned that she was a Poly Sci/Econ major. Don't take this the wrong way, kids, but telling me you're a Politically-Minded Activist person scares the crap out of me more than if you told me, over a cup of tea, that you had bludgeoned your family to death in a fit of blind rage and stuffed them in the cushions of the living room sofa, which I'm sitting on.

Let me let you all in on a little something. If you ever want to dumb me down, like, INSTANTLY, start talking about something related to Current Events. Any sort of discourse related to Economics or Politics or World History will imfuckinmediately expose me as the Zero Global Awareness dumbass that I am. Ask me how I feel about the crisis in Georgia and here's what you'll get:

What? There's a Crisis in Georgia? Is Ted Turner colorizing classic black and white movies again? I will COLORIZE HIS WRINKLY WHITE ASS.

Usually, I can get away with being a moron in these situations because I'm funny. I can say something ridiculously goofy like that and focus the attention away from my own ignorance. But I don't think it's going to work with Buffy. She's way too smart for me to pull that shit. And have I mentioned that she's Intense?

I freely admit that I'm a total fucking idiot when it comes to Topics I Should Probably Care About, as an American of Above-Average Intelligence. It's not that I don't care, I just require so much backstory in order to understand it, it's rarely worth the effort involved to bring me up to a level where I can confidently discuss it. R's really good at breaking history down to my level. Cuz here's me:

Ok, so who's fighting now? Why do these countries hate each other again? Christ, can't people just get OVER shit?? It's fuckin 2008, for fuck's sake!

Hey, at least I know I got the year right. And I've found that if you say the word Fuck a lot, people will assume you're really angry and they won't fuck with you. And maybe they'll think I'm angry and angsty because I spend so much time contemplating everything that's wrong with the world today.

I avoid political discussions as much as I possibly can, but presidential election years make it nearly impossible. I don't really care who wins. Not because I don't have an opinion, I kinda do, but the President doesn't really run the country.

See, I don't even really know if the President runs the country or not, but it kinda sounds like I know what I'm talking about, doesn't it?

Not really? Dammit.

So here's the thing. Buffy asked me if I wanted to go with her to hear Michelle Obama speak.

Ok, look... I'm not against going; I think it would be an interesting experience, but that's just SOOO not my scene. And I'm scared to death that someone will ask me a question and I'll start babbling like a fool. It takes so alarmingly little to throw me off my game and send me into total "God, Please Don't Let Them Find Out What A Shitbrain I Am" panic mode, and when that happens I start talking just to fill the air. Like I'm in a cartoon frame and if I just keep talking maybe I can hide behind the word balloons and people will leave me alone.

I haven't answered Buffy one way or another on this, and I KNOW she'll ask me again and I won't be able to say no. I swear it's going to be Swamp Thing all over again - I don't want to go but I'm just Way Too Fucking Nice. Gah! It's such a curse.

Buffy also invited us to another Barbecue next month. Now, that might actually be fun, if there's enough liquor.

Oh, and I also agreed to watch her 5-month old baby girl next week. Buffy's going on a job interview. I'd be willing to wager that if she gets this job, my stay-home ass is going to have a new little friend to play with while her Mommy's at work. I'm officially putting this prediction in writing right now. Mark ye my words.



And this is just funny.

Prince(ton) Charming!

I have been terrible about updating, haven't I? I'm sorry. I blame R. We got a Wii Fit a couple of weeks ago, and he's always setting new records for me to break. Hey, the thought of wanting to beat him keeps me motivated. This is the Positive side of my Competitive Nature. Hope it helps me drop a little BMI.


The highlight of the weekend, by far, was the text message that Beebie got from Princeton on Saturday afternoon:

There is no other way to say this, but will you be my girlfriend?

So it's official. And Beebie was over the freakin' MOON.

And then on Sunday evening, Buffy (I'm just going to stick with that name for Priceton's Mom) and Princeton came to pick Beebie and me up for a movie. Princeton was SO cute. He came in, introduced himself to R, Pie and Tito, and shook R's hand like a polite young gentleman. He was so adorable, I swear, I almost cried.

I've gotten to know and appreciate Buffy a little better, and I have to say, she is doing a fantastic job of raising her boy to be a good person. She and Princeton have an excellent level of communication; they are very open about everything (including sex), and I really respect that. I told her that Beeb talk openly too and that Beeb knows she can ask us anything, as you've all witnessed frequently on this blog. Are Lesbians Real? and What Are Rubbers? are among my favorites.

I also appreciate that Buffy is another one of those people like myself who are perfectly comfortable smuggling snacks into movie theaters. I buy soda and popcorn, but fuck if I'm gonna drop four bucks on Twizzlers when I can get them for a dollar at Walgreens.

Still, the woman is INTENSE. Thank God she's not the Swamp Thing level of Intense; at least it's not physically painful to listen to her speak. She's got the social graces that Swamp Thing lacks, plus she's got voice mail and a cell phone. But she's slightly Intense and extremely Outspoken, and I'm a bit intimidated by it. While she and I were on the phone (for over an hour), Princeton asked if he could play X-Box. She told him very sternly, "You may play for ten minutes, and then I want you to work on your French homework for twenty minutes."

My kids don't ask me if they can play video games. And even I know that ten minutes is hardly enough time to even DO anything in a video game. R plays games for hours before he realizes how long he's been on. And who makes their kid take French anymore? Oh, and I also found out that she kept Princeton home from school to go to an Obama rally. Princeton registered voters. I think that's pretty cool.

So the four of us went to see The Dark Knight. I was kinda nervous that it would be too intense for Beebie, but I didn't want to insult the Young Luvvahs by suggesting Space Chimps. Plus, if I was going to have to sit through it too, I wanted the film choice to be something that I didn't mind seeing.

Heath Ledger. Heath Ledger. Heath. Ledger.

The movie was very good. I liked the second half of it better than the first half, and I absolutely HATED Christian Bale's raspy, whispery, Batman voice. Aaron Eckhardt was great, but Heath Ledger, kids.

Heath. Fucking. Ledger.

On the way home, Princeton asked me a question - I forget what it was - and then while I was answering, he said something to Beebie. And Buffy caught him. I didn't care, really, but she railed him for asking me a question and then not listening to my answer. "In the Fee-YOU-ture," she said, "When you ASK someone a QUES-tion, you are to LISTen to what they have to SAY, and not interRUPT them. GOT that?"

Duuuuuude.

Oh, and the BEST part - when we pulled into our driveway, Buffy told Princeton "And as a Gentleman, you walk her to the door." So he did. And Beebie said thank you and that she'd had a nice time and she'd see him tomorrow at school. And a little while later she got a text from him saying he'd had a good time too.

So, so cute.