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The Dry Diaries, Weekend One: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...
Friday ended up being way more fun than expected as we had a surprise visit from Black Lady and White Lady Version 2.0, Younger, Cuter and Way More Trouble. Its a little weird to have known Leanna since she was like 11 or 12 and now I'm smoking on the porch with her and swapping tales of filth. Like, almost make me old or something weird but we all know that's not remotely possible. We wound up with all 7 of us piled into the van and the hilarity that ensued from there, mostly on behalf of the small folk who find 2.0 to be even funnier than the originals, was awesome. There are no words that sum up hearing them laugh like that, especially when they're strapped down and incapable of doing any actual evil.
I'd been assigned a column to complete by Monday but by the time we got everyone home and the twee folk in bed it was 10ish, the Intarwebs had been down all night and I was BEAT. Funny how the less I drink the more I just want a good night's sleep. Or not funny? I can't tell if that's vodka or old age and I don't suppose it matters.
I slept like the dead.
Saturday morning was grocery shopping which was so awesome sans small folk as Kay came over to hang with the boys until movie time. Though I did see this poor woman who was trying to push a shopping cart loaded to the rafters with one hand, while pushing a double stroller with twins PLUS a twee 2 year old-ish toddler with the other and I just wanted to cry for her. My life is so easy. My life is so easy. My life is so so so fucking easy for realz.
Or so I thought.
The Beasties Elder nearly jizzed themselves in excitement over going to see Iron Man, but the twee one got bored after the first hour or so and crawled into my lap and fell asleep. Tiny. Sweetness. I wanted to eat him it was so cute, him all drooling in my cleavage, 30+ gangly pounds of all elbows and knees tucked up like a baby again. Best. Movie. Ever.
Couldn't tell you what it was about.
And then it was off to Kay's corset fitting at Dianna's and I have never seen that girl squee that hard or that long over anything for as long as I have known her. She was beyond adorable. We finally get home and I had about an hour before retarded exhaustion claimed me again so I sat down and tried to write something, clearly I am not one for deadlines or for writing for a living. Leave me alone bored and I will write myself into hysterics. Have to do it in any way seriously and I've had root canals more fun.
As a disclaimer I should note that I did have a twee corset celebratory beverage with Kay since she poured it for me and t'would be rude to refuse. But my brain was way too twisty on pounding these keys to think much of drinking so I basically just gave myself a headache while she got blindingly and hilariously drunk. Fuck, what I should have done was just write down everything she said and submitted that. Shit My Kneegroid Says Drunk would be a best seller.
Sunday started with a clearly hungover and dangerous Kneegs sending me killer cute baby pix from when the elder beasts were twee that had my ovaries demanding I run directly upstairs to where Fratcop was sleeping off his shift and make more RIGHT NOW. Funny though when life is dry I tend to make far more reasoned and logical decisions and instead took the kids to ball hockey followed by running off to a kids clothing swap with my best friend from back in high school:
I took this cell pic with the intention of comparing and contrasting our cuteness now vs 20 years ago except I am an enormous dumbass and forgot that the photo albums are locked down in the cellar that I can't get to because someone lives down there now and HAI how awesome is it to have a tenant so damned quiet that without the money that keeps mysteriously and fabulously showing up I would have no idea she was here?
So far it all sounds spectacularly cute and filled with WIN right, so where on earth would the 'worst of times' part of it possibly come in?
Anyone remotely squeamish about having kids might want to stop reading now.
So we get back from an awesome time at Sams and have some time to kill since Kay had to postpone the final fitting at Dianna's because her sprained leg is in that much pain and I get all crazy and decide I might be deserving of a shower. I know, totally crazy right? I don't usually like to leave the Beasts unsupervised for any length of time yet but they are 3 and 5 now and frankly when your other half is away on shift work so much of the time sometimes you do what you gotta do or you start to smell real funky. And to be fair as much as I like to bring y'all the highlights of their feats of stupidity, for the most part they're actually pretty sweet and well behaved kids especially when its just the two of them. For the Axis of Evil to ignite we need the infusion of Crispin and vice versa, its like some weird alchemy beyond their control when they get together, not unlike Kay and I. Ha. Long story not even remotely short, I set them up with some snack and games, lock the kitchen and front door so they can't get up to anything too terribly nefarious and hopped in the shower.
And it started off well enough. They followed me upstairs naturally so I could hear them running up and down the halls and just being goofy. Next thing I knew (see? SEE??) I hear the weirdest scream/panicked cry that has my every mamahair standing up on end and I throw open the shower curtain to find Twisty G standing there, pants around his ankles in front of the toilet with shit. All. Over. The. Bathroom.
I really couldn't decide whether the urge was stronger to laugh or cry but neither was an option because the poor kid was so so horrified by what his body was doing. And doing. And doing. So I jump out out of the shower ninja style, you know if ninjas were wet, naked and covered in bubbles, and I hoisted the little shit machine onto the toilet and get to work trying to scrub the shit off the floor. And the walls. And the cabinets. And everywhere else his panicked shit-twirl pointed his ass in the direction of. By the time I get finished with that he's finished with the toilet and so starts the process of scraping the shit off him and the toilet and so I just tossed his ass into the shower while I finished off the rest of it. And of course in the midst of this Fitzy thought this was pretty much the funniest fucking thing he had ever seen and needed to get in on the shower action so what the hell. Once the bathroom coast was clear again I strip him down to let him frolic in the shower with us and dude I literally could not make this shit up (pun totally intended) but I open his diaper and out falls out the shitstorm of the century take 2, perfectly timed and now with added hysteria from all of us because what the hell can you do at that point but laugh until you cry?
And so it is especially fitting that this was the morning Kay decided to remind me of how cute these small people are capable of being:
Which may be the only reason we are all still alive to tell the tale.
The best part of all of this was coming home to an email from the guy I submitted the piece to saying he loved the column but it didn't quite fit the daily and weekly formats he had in mind but if I wanted to try my hand at a food blog he'd love to see it.
There is literally nothing on earth less appealing to me right now than the thought of trying to make anything resembling food.
Unless anyone else wants to come over and take a run at shitting all over my kitchen first? That might be slightly less appealing. Slightly.
Just as well because can you imagine me trying to commit to a daily or weekly anything right now? If I can't fit in the time to shower that regularly (AND ARGUE WITH ME NOW ABOUT WHY, I DARE YOU) then I can't see writing coming before basic hygiene.
Suffice it to say The Dry Experiment has ended.
There is seriously not enough vodka in the world for this shit.
Literally.
Friday ended up being way more fun than expected as we had a surprise visit from Black Lady and White Lady Version 2.0, Younger, Cuter and Way More Trouble. Its a little weird to have known Leanna since she was like 11 or 12 and now I'm smoking on the porch with her and swapping tales of filth. Like, almost make me old or something weird but we all know that's not remotely possible. We wound up with all 7 of us piled into the van and the hilarity that ensued from there, mostly on behalf of the small folk who find 2.0 to be even funnier than the originals, was awesome. There are no words that sum up hearing them laugh like that, especially when they're strapped down and incapable of doing any actual evil.
I'd been assigned a column to complete by Monday but by the time we got everyone home and the twee folk in bed it was 10ish, the Intarwebs had been down all night and I was BEAT. Funny how the less I drink the more I just want a good night's sleep. Or not funny? I can't tell if that's vodka or old age and I don't suppose it matters.
I slept like the dead.
Saturday morning was grocery shopping which was so awesome sans small folk as Kay came over to hang with the boys until movie time. Though I did see this poor woman who was trying to push a shopping cart loaded to the rafters with one hand, while pushing a double stroller with twins PLUS a twee 2 year old-ish toddler with the other and I just wanted to cry for her. My life is so easy. My life is so easy. My life is so so so fucking easy for realz.
Or so I thought.
The Beasties Elder nearly jizzed themselves in excitement over going to see Iron Man, but the twee one got bored after the first hour or so and crawled into my lap and fell asleep. Tiny. Sweetness. I wanted to eat him it was so cute, him all drooling in my cleavage, 30+ gangly pounds of all elbows and knees tucked up like a baby again. Best. Movie. Ever.
Couldn't tell you what it was about.
And then it was off to Kay's corset fitting at Dianna's and I have never seen that girl squee that hard or that long over anything for as long as I have known her. She was beyond adorable. We finally get home and I had about an hour before retarded exhaustion claimed me again so I sat down and tried to write something, clearly I am not one for deadlines or for writing for a living. Leave me alone bored and I will write myself into hysterics. Have to do it in any way seriously and I've had root canals more fun.
As a disclaimer I should note that I did have a twee corset celebratory beverage with Kay since she poured it for me and t'would be rude to refuse. But my brain was way too twisty on pounding these keys to think much of drinking so I basically just gave myself a headache while she got blindingly and hilariously drunk. Fuck, what I should have done was just write down everything she said and submitted that. Shit My Kneegroid Says Drunk would be a best seller.
Sunday started with a clearly hungover and dangerous Kneegs sending me killer cute baby pix from when the elder beasts were twee that had my ovaries demanding I run directly upstairs to where Fratcop was sleeping off his shift and make more RIGHT NOW. Funny though when life is dry I tend to make far more reasoned and logical decisions and instead took the kids to ball hockey followed by running off to a kids clothing swap with my best friend from back in high school:
I took this cell pic with the intention of comparing and contrasting our cuteness now vs 20 years ago except I am an enormous dumbass and forgot that the photo albums are locked down in the cellar that I can't get to because someone lives down there now and HAI how awesome is it to have a tenant so damned quiet that without the money that keeps mysteriously and fabulously showing up I would have no idea she was here?
So far it all sounds spectacularly cute and filled with WIN right, so where on earth would the 'worst of times' part of it possibly come in?
Anyone remotely squeamish about having kids might want to stop reading now.
So we get back from an awesome time at Sams and have some time to kill since Kay had to postpone the final fitting at Dianna's because her sprained leg is in that much pain and I get all crazy and decide I might be deserving of a shower. I know, totally crazy right? I don't usually like to leave the Beasts unsupervised for any length of time yet but they are 3 and 5 now and frankly when your other half is away on shift work so much of the time sometimes you do what you gotta do or you start to smell real funky. And to be fair as much as I like to bring y'all the highlights of their feats of stupidity, for the most part they're actually pretty sweet and well behaved kids especially when its just the two of them. For the Axis of Evil to ignite we need the infusion of Crispin and vice versa, its like some weird alchemy beyond their control when they get together, not unlike Kay and I. Ha. Long story not even remotely short, I set them up with some snack and games, lock the kitchen and front door so they can't get up to anything too terribly nefarious and hopped in the shower.
And it started off well enough. They followed me upstairs naturally so I could hear them running up and down the halls and just being goofy. Next thing I knew (see? SEE??) I hear the weirdest scream/panicked cry that has my every mamahair standing up on end and I throw open the shower curtain to find Twisty G standing there, pants around his ankles in front of the toilet with shit. All. Over. The. Bathroom.
I really couldn't decide whether the urge was stronger to laugh or cry but neither was an option because the poor kid was so so horrified by what his body was doing. And doing. And doing. So I jump out out of the shower ninja style, you know if ninjas were wet, naked and covered in bubbles, and I hoisted the little shit machine onto the toilet and get to work trying to scrub the shit off the floor. And the walls. And the cabinets. And everywhere else his panicked shit-twirl pointed his ass in the direction of. By the time I get finished with that he's finished with the toilet and so starts the process of scraping the shit off him and the toilet and so I just tossed his ass into the shower while I finished off the rest of it. And of course in the midst of this Fitzy thought this was pretty much the funniest fucking thing he had ever seen and needed to get in on the shower action so what the hell. Once the bathroom coast was clear again I strip him down to let him frolic in the shower with us and dude I literally could not make this shit up (pun totally intended) but I open his diaper and out falls out the shitstorm of the century take 2, perfectly timed and now with added hysteria from all of us because what the hell can you do at that point but laugh until you cry?
And so it is especially fitting that this was the morning Kay decided to remind me of how cute these small people are capable of being:
Which may be the only reason we are all still alive to tell the tale.
The best part of all of this was coming home to an email from the guy I submitted the piece to saying he loved the column but it didn't quite fit the daily and weekly formats he had in mind but if I wanted to try my hand at a food blog he'd love to see it.
There is literally nothing on earth less appealing to me right now than the thought of trying to make anything resembling food.
Unless anyone else wants to come over and take a run at shitting all over my kitchen first? That might be slightly less appealing. Slightly.
Just as well because can you imagine me trying to commit to a daily or weekly anything right now? If I can't fit in the time to shower that regularly (AND ARGUE WITH ME NOW ABOUT WHY, I DARE YOU) then I can't see writing coming before basic hygiene.
Suffice it to say The Dry Experiment has ended.
There is seriously not enough vodka in the world for this shit.
Literally.