This may be why they don't let me go out.

Often when I go out and my husband hears about how my little adventures out in the real world turn out, he winds up pointing out "And this is why you aren't allowed to go out."  This was one of those nights.  (When I say night, I mean 4pm, which we have already been over with the girl at the concession stand who was very young and probably woke up and started the day about an hour before I called it 'night' at 4pm.)  My sister tried to sum it up on her facebook...

Sis after movies and running around town with my sister, I now have a few apology cards to write to some businesses... First up...
Dear Arbys Drive-Through guy, I'm sorry we sexually harassed you via Dane Cook jokes...  
Next - Dear Dicks Sporting Goods cashier..

Me  Hey, when a woman asks you for pickles in sexy (read insane and creepy) voice, you give her pickles, and you thank her for her business.

Me  And, I believe the Dicks guy used the word "enthusiastic", and he probably wasn't just using that because it was more polite than "batshit crazy." Probably.

Sis  I think it was a code word... like a safety code...


Me Well clearly we should have agreed on the safe word BEFORE he asked me if I had a Dicks card. Because I clearly took that to mean I should keep up the good work.

Don't even read this

Now is your chance to turn and run.  I'm going to share a conversation with my sister, that we could've had when we were immature children, but instead we had when I was somewhere in my 5th year of 28 (AKA tonight).  It could also be a conversation between 2 middle school boys in a locker room.  You've been warned.

Me I love Ron Swanson.

Sis  lol we just watched the episode from 2 weeks ago on On Demand, and there was a go green commercial with him in potato sack underwear

Me Wow.  I don't even know what to say about that.

Sis LOL
      i think he was talking about turning off the lights when not needing them, or the water... I don't know.. it was a half naked Ron Swanson on screen... a little disturbing. THen he pointed to his brown ruff looking underwear and said you could save them for a special occasion...

Me  Yeah, lights and water, two things that go together really well. I'm pretty sure I will never be able to think of a reason to use potato sack underwear.

Sis well he was standing in a bathroom.. i think.

Me  In the water? Holding a light? Wearing a scratchy sack over his nethers?

Sis haha no! He was standing there, shirtless, hands on hips, brown sack like boxers on.. standing in front of a bathtub

Me Maybe it's on you tube.  haha

Sis I can't find it.  I've been searching this whole time.

Me  Try searching for Ron Swanson's scratchy sack sack. BRUHAHAHAHAHAHA

Sis  hahaha can we stop saying sack?? lol

Me It's like a Dr. Seuss Rhyme.  "The Sack in the Sack."

Sis lmao

Me I am Ron.  Ron Swan-sahn.  

Sis I'm in your freezer... with your name on me.   *And that, good people, is a Jimmy Fallon reference.*


Me I wear a sack. A potato sack. I like the sack on my sack. An itchy itchy, scratchy sack, I like to wear on my sack.
       The Bloggess better watch out. My new Dr. Seuss book is going to knock her out of the number one spot.

Sis  lol i let mom in on what was going on.. she's laughing now too

Me  I laughed, then cried, then nearly peed my pants and threw up at the same time, so I had to take a break from my new top seller.

Sis Mom said "That sack is full of scratch."

Me She'd be right.  At least she didn't say "That sack is full of shit."  That's a different commercial.  And I think Lisa Rinna is doing that one.

Sis lol


Hey!  I warned you!  If you made it this far, give yourself a pat on the back!  And remember, potato sacks do not make good skivvies.

 

And then it goes to the dogs

I think everyone has had one of those days where you just wake up hating everything.  There is no real reason (though I suspect it probably started with some strange dream that you just don't remember, but made you angry), but you feel miserable and unhappy the second you open your eyes.  Today was one of those days for me.  I can't remember my dreams, so I'm going to still stick with my dream theory for this one.  (I really had a dream one time in which my husband was horrible to me.  He was just mean, and rude, and just way over the top.  When he woke up *in real life*, I was glaring at him.  All I said was "You were such a jerk in my dream."  He pointed out it was just a dream, but it took me several hours to get over it, and stop being angry at him.  It was like those dreams where you feel yourself falling, except I felt myself boiling over at his behavior.  So this is what leads me to hold dreams accountable for unexplainable bad moods first thing in the morning.)

Anyway, back to my bad day.  So I was just off to a grumpy start.  Everything was irritating, and I just had the goal of being clean and keeping the children safe, fed, and getting the oldest one to school on time.  Then, on the way to complete my mission, I saw something flying past the rear window of my car.  Mail.  My husband had left mail sitting on the roof of my SUV, so I didn't notice it, and now it was flying off my roof, in the rain, onto a street during the busy morning rush.  I will spare everyone the conversation I was having with my imaginary friend as I retrieved all the, what I then discovered was junk, mail after making a 3 point turn in the middle of traffic.  Just retelling this story annoys me.  Luckily, everyone stopped for the crazy woman in lounge pants and purple converse sneakers, swearing at her coupon mailers in the middle of the street, in the rain, so I didn't get hit by a car to top it off.

I managed to make it home safely, but then was busy locking up my angry cats, and trying to keep the baby confined so I could prepare for a 3rd day of our friend fixing up the basement for us.  The cats are angry and loud, and the baby is angry and loud, and the tools are loud, and I just want to crawl under my covers, have a nervous breakdown, and probably drink... a lot. 

The rest of the morning and early afternoon are spent with me trying to find ways to quiet everything down, and find some sort of calm, but my efforts were unsuccessful.  So, when I thought of leaving the house to take some food over to the neighbor, I should have reminded myself that I wasn't have great luck INSIDE the house, and even less when I previously tried to venture outside.  But, I went out anyway, and that's when a dog used me to clean off his paws after apparently doing his business.  All I could think was, "Perfect.  This is the perfect metaphor for the day.  I am now a shit napkin."

So, there you have it.  Hopefully tomorrow I will not be a shit napkin, and instead I can just turn back into a human being.  Lucky for me, my day did wind down with some laughs from a few of my friends, and so I do feel hopeful for tomorrow.  When you have one of these days, just imagine I am holding the covers open for you to crawl into, handing you whatever your drink of choice is, and telling you to stay inside, away from dogs, because they are waiting for you. 

They can use your two ties as restraints while they wait for assistance.

Today my husband came home wearing two ties around his neck.  Now, of course one was just draped around it (really I'm not sure why I just said "of course" because it still makes no sense), but still there were two ties.  I made the mistake of asking him why and expecting a straight answer.  Instead I got:

Husband Because then people think I'm really important, and do whatever I want with a "Right away, sir!"

Me Well, that's just because they are trying to keep you calm while they wait for the men in the white coats to arrive to take you away.  Two ties sends more of an "I'm an unstable looney" vibe than an "I'm an important leader for our team, and you should listen to my advice" vibe.

Husband You are wrong.

Me Almost never, and certainly not now.  

And that's when he walks away, presumably to go change out of his excessive neck-wear and leaves me with no real explanation for his odd fashion choice.

This is the same guy, though, who likes to use living in the suburbs as a reason for his deteriorating sense of fashion.  Anytime I try to sneak in something new and interesting, it immediately gets labeled as "hipster".  Like "I even put on those hipster jeans you got me." or "I'm not wearing this hipster shirt you got me because I like it,  I'm wearing it ironically."  At first, I thought he really thought I was trying to dress him like a hipster... then I realized he was confused and thought "hipster" meant "has the proper fit, and you cannot buy it in bulk."  I guess I can't expect him to get an outfit right, if he can't even commit to learning the proper fashion jargon. 

Like most desperate housewives, I have to come up with creative ways to get what I need out of life... most especially when it comes to how my husband dresses.  It occurred to me one day, while doing laundry, that I could just throw stuff out. 

That shirt where the black from the stripes was bleeding into the yellow of the rest of the shirt?  I have NO idea what happened to that.  Maybe it got left behind on vacation, or maybe the TSA guys searched your bag and saw that little high fashion gem and stole it!

Oh, you're looking for your socks with all the holes in them?  I know you said your "favorite socks", but the truth is they have been trying to tear themselves off of your feet now for about 3 months, and I think they finally flew away to sock Heaven.

I haven't seen the boxers hanging on to the elastic waistband by approximately one inch of fabric on your left hip for a long time now.  Where did you last see them?

You even HAD a khaki corduroy suit?  I can't even imagine what that would look like.  (Not that I physically couldn't... I just couldn't for my own sanity and nightmare prevention.)

After awhile, my husband realized that turning his laundry over to me meant it would be participating in a game of "survival of the fittest".  If it was disintegrating, still displaying what he had last week for lunch, or it was apparently purchased from Bad, Bad and Beyond Ugly.... it will probably go missing.  He knows not to ask where they go anymore... he just accepts that they have gone to a better place.  (And probably replaced by something "hipster" that will fit him, and look like he didn't get dressed in the dark.)


And tonight, we have a bonus kid-ism, courtesy of my 4 year old....

Me You need to go to your room.

Son Fine!  I will go to my STUPID room! (pause & switch to reasonable, polite voice)  Well, I actually really like my room, and it's really nice and not stupid.  BUT I'm really mad, so I'm going to call it stupid!

Me Well I'm really mad, too, so I guess we're pretty even.

Son Yes, I guess we ARE pretty even!  

 

Easter Funny

At a whopping 4 and a half years old, my son notices everything.  He's constantly trying to figure out the world around him, and of course this is mixed with the common childhood belief that that world revolves around him.  An observance of the moon's visibility patterns leads to a "The moon wants to be my friend!  He comes out to see me, and follows us wherever we go!"  Today the big topic is Easter.  I forgot that the Easter Bunny is at the mall for the mom-arazzi to get those holiday photo ops, and was not prepared to visit with him at the mall today.  My son, however, noticed all the kids lined up to chat with the plastic perma-grin, speechless, and a little mangy, rabbit. 

Son Mommy!  That bunny is huge!  Is that the real Easter Bunny?  I thought he'd be much smaller.  That can't be him.  That must be his giant friend.  And those kids think it's the REAL one!  

Me Yeah, that's incredulous.

He still wants to go back and sit on the imposter-bunny's lap later this week.  However, he did point out to all the ladies in the salon how everyone was being fooled by the comically large, obviously faux Easter Bunny... the real Easter bunny would NEVER be so unbelievably large.  No one knew quite how to react to him. Do they support Team Mall Bunny or do they agree that he's just a badly cast replacement bunny?   It was golden.  


Now aside from revelations about the Easter Bunny and his photo-op bunny squad, he has been obsessed with dying Easter eggs.  However, he nearly abandoned the idea when he saw a commercial that mentioned "dying Easter eggs."

Son *horrified look on his face*  Mommy!  When you put the eggs in the colors it KILLS THEM!  All those eggs are dead!

Me Honey, they are talking about dye... which is 'to color'... not die, like 'to cease to live'.    Those words sound the same, but they are very different.  The color is called dye.  You are just coloring their shells.  

Earlier today he told me they have "in-patient flowers" in his class.  He told me not to worry, because they also had patient flowers.  I'm not sure if they need to go to the hospital, or just learn the art of waiting.  Either way, it would probably have been easier if they just went with impatiens rather than in-patients.  That way you don't have to deal with insurance.