Dad, Mom, The Apes and The JoBros.

If you've been following along, you might remember that my dad's prostate surgery was yesterday. It appears to have gone well. They inserted like 70 of the radiation seeds. And here's where my sense of humor comes from, kids. Leaving the surgery, Dad wore a pair of flannel pajama pants that he's had for years. They have this symbol on them.

He has to go back for testes... I mean, TESTS, in three weeks, which will be after we're there. We leave for Texas on the 12th, we think. We're taking the Odyssexy. Can't even wait.

Anyway, yesterday Dad called me from the car on the way home from his surgery, and I kept hearing,

"Go ahead, Love, go..."

"No! Wait!! There's a truck coming!"

"I see it, I see it, but it's all the way over there, you have room... "

"No! No I don't! Just wait!"

(exasperated sigh)

And I remembered the time when my mom drove me home after I had four impacted wisdom teeth cut out many years ago. The surgery itself was an absolute nightmare, and I had had an actual nightmare the night before in which I dreamed that I woke up mid-surgery to find a bunch of bloody hooks and needles sticking out of my face.

In reality the doctor had to give me nitrous in order to put the IV in my hand because I was so freaked out, and the last thing I remember hearing was the doctor saying, "She's fighting, she's fighting... turn it up!" True story.

Believe it or not, that wasn't the worst part of my day. The worst part was that afterwards, I couldn't relax with the knowledge that I was getting to go home and sleep. No. I had to dread the ride home.

My mother does NOT drive. I think in the entire three years I lived with my parents in San Antonio, I saw her drive maybe five times.

I was laying in a fetal position in the back seat of the Sentra wagon, doped up on morphine, alternately throwing up blood and sobbing from the pain. I BEGGED her to get on the highway so I could get home and get in my bed.

What would have been maybe a ten minute drive took forty minutes, as Mom would only drive on streets that aren't "way too busy". Those streets are busy BECAUSE THEY'RE THE FASTEST WAY FOR MOST PEOPLE TO GET TO WHERE PEOPLE NEED TO GO. And you can't say anything to her about it, or she'll dig in her heels even deeper and be more resolute in her belief that behind the wheel of every other car on the road is a "crazy person" intent on killing us all.

I totally felt my dad's pain. Well, being a girl, I can only imagine the actual pain he was dealing with, but I could relate to his frustration, for sure. Putting Mom in charge of driving you home after a painful surgery, when you're in pain and desperate to get home in a hurry, is like kickin ya while yer down. A kick in the nuts, as it were, in this particular case.

Regardless of the type and number of drugs you're on, regardless of the amount of pain you're in, regardless of your mental state or physical ability to see the road and maneuver the wheel and the pedals, you are far better off driving YOURSELF home. You could have just had a full lobotomy and had all four limbs amputated - you're still going to get home faster driving yourself than if you let my mom drive you. Shit, you'd get home faster CRAWLING.

I thought of that Wisdom Teeth Surgery/Mom Driving Debacle a second time today, as Speed Racer and I picked our friend RevDev up at the hospital after her foot surgery. RevDev is such a trooper, even when I'm practically humping her leg, trying to get her wheelchair up the steps in front of her apartment. She's adorable.

But that's not what I was going to write about.


I know this'll probably shock the shit outta y'all, but I'm rather lax with my language at home.

I've heard Pie say "shit" while playing XBox. He has a bit of a lisp, so it sounded like "SIT!!", but he and I both knew what he said.

I've heard Tito call Pie a "twatty". Apparently I use the word twatty more than I realized. Remind me to tell you the difference between Cunty and Twatty sometime.

Beebie had an upset stomach, so R gave her some Junior Pepto. Her response? "UGH! This stuff tastes like ass!!"

Yup. I love my life.


So, in more Ape Squad News, Monday night I took the Apes to see The Jonas Brothers 3D Concert Experience movie which I thought would be a fun surprise for them. Turns out, I was surprised too, beginning at the ticket window.

One Adult and Three Children for Jonas Brothers, please.

Yes, ma'am. That'll be sixteen dollars.

Handed the guy a $20 bill. He just looked at me. What? What was wrong with my money?

That's only twenty, ma'am.

My Inside My Head Voice - Yeah, I know it's twenty, Dumbass, you owe me four. It's fuckin first grade math.

It's SIXTY DOLLARS, ma'am.

My Out Loud Voice - Are you fucking serious???

For sixty dollars, the Jonas Brothers better be nekkid. At least the oldest one. Kevin, I believe his name is. You may be aware that I have a thing for Kevins. I'm working through it, though. I've thinned my Kevin collection recently. Reduced it by 50%, in fact. Difficult, but ultimately liberating. I feel fantastic; not anything like that girl you might remember from July 2008.

The movie was actually rather enjoyable, surprisingly. Not so much the movie itself, but the 3D technology and watching the kids react to it was really fun. My favorite part was sitting next to Beebie and snarking through the whole thing. It was a beautiful chick-bonding experience.

In 3D.