Tag Archives: i need a drink

friday, part the 2nd…

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I volunteered at the school today and they worked me over like a cheap hooker. Okay, maybe not the best metaphor considering the fact this is a Catholic school, but you get the picture. It was 5 hours of hard labor–without an epidural. Trust me, drugs would’ve helped, tremendously.

I had a good time despite the fact I was wishing for a hit of pain killers. I hung out with a cool Egyptian chick (been in America since ’68 so really she’s more American than Egyptian now…) anyway, Maggie is the mother of 3 beautiful girls. You know, dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes…the kinda girls that will be called “exotic beauties” when they’re older. We had a great time. We spent the day moving and unpacking boxes and laughing at assisting the snooty other moms were also there to “help”.

So, this whole Catholic immersion thing is new to me. A: I’m protestant and a lapsed protestant at that. B: I think organized religion ruins spirituality C: What do you mean Mass doesn’t count except on Saturday’s after 4:00 pm and on Sundays? If it doesn’t count, why the hell are y’all going all the damn time? But I’m hanging in there and being as supportive as I can be for a heathen an uneducated protestant.

Sometimes I worry one of the parents will find my blog and my kids will be kicked out because their mom has had naughty thoughts about Steve from Blue’s Clues (honestly, can they forgive a naughty river?), has posted half nekkid pictures of hot guys, is writing a Vampire YA, and gets pretty hot and bothered when reading MMF. Could you imagine that conversation?

“But she’s in PTO. She can’t be all bad.”
“But she likes reading MMF sex! I bet she liked watching Queer as Folk… (I did. Hot naked guys for 1 hour a week. Duh.)
“She writes about the undead. She’s a sinner.”
“We could convert her…”
“Um. Do we really want to convert her?”
“Good point.”

Of course, this is my overactive imagination working overdrive ( I write fiction, you know?) The school takes our money and welcomes us into their fold. It’s been fabulous there. The kids like it tremendously and I’ve felt very welcome by the people who count. (actually, the majority of the school and administration has been more than welcoming. Just one or two moms have tried their best to make me feel uncomfortable. They didn’t realize I thrive on the challenge..)

Just because I feel like it, here’s one of my favorite scenes from Rush Hour (shut up, I like this movie). It’s not the scene I quote the most… (“Do you hear the words that are comin’ out of my mouf?”) But it is one of my favorite scenes. Enjoy, bitches.

13 year old logic–or lack thereof

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Me: Ian, you haven’t done your literature. It’s incomplete. It’s inaccurate.

Ian: (Shrug)

Me: Why?

Ian: (Shrug. Lip smack. Eye roll. ) Because it is.

Me: (steam flowing from my ears. Blood streaming from my nose due to the aneurysm) Explain why it just is. With words. Minus the visuals and sound effects. (I think I growled, and then I popped a ventricle from trying not to yell…)

Ian: I don’t like that teacher. That’s why it just is.

He doesn’t like his teacher? So in order to hurt his teacher, he doesn’t do his work?

Yeah. That’s some logic right there. I mean, that’s like uber-advanced-college-thesis-level logic. It’s so high level, I need a diagram to help me understand.

have you met woody?

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Last night’s walk was sponsored by thunder, lightning, stuffed shorts, and a wooden spoon.

Fishdog took Ian to buy new running shoes. He’s going to start cross-country training this week, after we get his physical. That’ll be a great experience for him, I’m sure.

Rader tried to pull the old “I don’t have any homework” trick. I knew something was up when he took his backpack to his room. He NEVER takes his backpack to his room. Every day, I pick it up from the middle of the kitchen floor and yell, “Not where it belongs!” So, when Rader picked up his backpack voluntarily, took it to his room and put it in his closet, I knew something was up.

I marched back there and looked through it. He had 3 sheets of homework. The boy learned nothing last week.

I called him into the room, asked him about the homework calmly…no yelling at all…honestly, you should be proud. After he answered me, I said, “I’ll be right back.”

Walked into the kitchen, picked up Woody, (a wooden spoon) and went back to Rader’s room. He was waiting, wide-eyed and worried.

“Bend over the bed, please.”

He does without any argument. I’m thinking, this is good. He’s not fighting it. I’m handling this the right way. I am getting through! I am mother of the year!

Apparently, he anticipated that I might be getting Woody (which is funny, because he’s only been spanked by Woody one other time. I’m not a big spanker) Anyway, he had shoved several pairs of shorts into his shorts, hoping I wouldn’t notice the extra padding.

I noticed. I removed said padding and he got 4 licks. One for each page of homework he didn’t do and one for lying.

BTW, he did his homework in about fifteen minutes and it was all correct. Why do they insist on being so stupid sometimes? Not only did he get reaquainted with Woody last night, but now he’s grounded again from electronics except for the radio. Seriously, I heart boys, but sometimes I wonder how they manage to make it to 30 years old.

So, after the beating, I decided to walk for a while. It was nice outside. Not too hot and the wind was blowing. It was thundering in the distance. I decided to stay in the neighborhood because I didn’t want to get too far away and be struck by lightning.

I made 2 laps around our half-mile circle before the lightning had made it to our area. I had planned to walk for 3 laps. Since I didn’t get to do that, I came in and had a whisky instead.