Last week when Birth Control was here he drooled on himself, me, my couch, my dogs and basically any other surface he was standing near. He wet through his diaper and got pee on me. His hands were always sticky and I wiped a booger off of his face and changed his poopy diaper. I was starting to think that my dogs are super clean in comparison.
The other day I was sitting outside and noticed Ruby scooting her butt across the grass. I thought it was weird, because dogs usually save this nasty habit for carpet. When she turned around, I saw the reason for the butt-scoot. There was a condom hanging from her butt. Yes. My dog pooped out a condom. Only not completely. She needed help and guess who got that lovely job? Yep, I got to pull a condom out of my dog's butt. Gross.
I would like to think that this would be a lesson in not eating my bathroom garbage, but I know it won't stop her. Both of my dogs think my bathroom garbage is a treasure trove of treats. They're gross.
The damn thing is that I'm pretty sure there were two condoms in there that day. So I'm kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Gross.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
How Birth Control Works
I know, he's only been here two hours but BC has totally earned his name. I have thought of at least a dozen reasons how his name fits him.
1. He has to be followed around constantly. You could maybe make out for about five seconds at a time before being interrupted.
2. You spend too much time cleaning up after him to have time to have sex. There are only so many hours in a day.
3. If there is time leftover, you're too exhausted after cleaning up and chasing all day.
4. There is the obvious fact that you don't want two of these things walking around the house wreaking havoc. You think he is cute until you see the weight of his bagel in crumbs all over the table.
5. It's hard to have sex with a tantrum going on in the background. Not exactly mood music.
6. "No" becomes an automatic, unrehearsed response.
7. Having pee on your shirt doesn't work as a pheromone.
8. There's no time to shave your legs or put on makeup.
9. There's no time left over after consoling the dogs and apologizing to them for the tornado you've let into their home that they don't understand.
10. If you turn your back for a second he might stab someone or burn the house down. It's hard to relax under those circumstances.
11. There's enough frustration throughout the day without having to worry about being sexually frustrated. And there's no point in starting something you can't really finish.
12. There's no watching porn to get in the mood because you always have the t.v. on something stupid like Wonderpets or fucking Spongebob on the off-chance that BC will get interested in it and sit down for five precious minutes. There is no bigger cockblocker than fucking Spongebob. (Spell check has a problem with both Spongebob and cockblocker. We have so much in common.)
1. He has to be followed around constantly. You could maybe make out for about five seconds at a time before being interrupted.
2. You spend too much time cleaning up after him to have time to have sex. There are only so many hours in a day.
3. If there is time leftover, you're too exhausted after cleaning up and chasing all day.
4. There is the obvious fact that you don't want two of these things walking around the house wreaking havoc. You think he is cute until you see the weight of his bagel in crumbs all over the table.
5. It's hard to have sex with a tantrum going on in the background. Not exactly mood music.
6. "No" becomes an automatic, unrehearsed response.
7. Having pee on your shirt doesn't work as a pheromone.
8. There's no time to shave your legs or put on makeup.
9. There's no time left over after consoling the dogs and apologizing to them for the tornado you've let into their home that they don't understand.
10. If you turn your back for a second he might stab someone or burn the house down. It's hard to relax under those circumstances.
11. There's enough frustration throughout the day without having to worry about being sexually frustrated. And there's no point in starting something you can't really finish.
12. There's no watching porn to get in the mood because you always have the t.v. on something stupid like Wonderpets or fucking Spongebob on the off-chance that BC will get interested in it and sit down for five precious minutes. There is no bigger cockblocker than fucking Spongebob. (Spell check has a problem with both Spongebob and cockblocker. We have so much in common.)
Monday, June 20, 2011
Adventures In Babysitting
Yeah, so I thought helping my friend out with her daycare emergency was brilliant. She would get an excellent provider (me) and I would get a little cash and some free child labor.
After the first hour this kid had a nickname: Birth Control. He was into everything. And I mean everything. I didn't realize how non-child-proof my house is. I have more breakables than I thought and all well within his reach. D was never like this so maybe I'm just not used to boys. Or I'm just old and amnesic. Really though, she was pretty calm.
In no time at all, BC had colored on my wine fridge, knocked a lamp off a table, expanded the hole in my screen door and picked up a knife. And totally freaked out my dog. Poor Ruby just couldn't make sense of him. She barked and barked and barked until I finally slapped her on the butt, which just completely broke her heart. I'm sure she thought she was defending me from some mutant-sized person and doing a really good job that I just didn't appreciate. Remy, on the other hand, wanted to lick the poor child to death.
We went to pick up D so I could take a shower and when I said "go bye-bye" he started packing up all his toys, including my styrofoam pumpkin that he fell in love with. I finally convinced him we'd be back so he grabbed his blanket, stuffed penguin and toy train. Which is not just a train, but a "railroad" train.
Stupidly, I had promised D we could go shopping to spend her birthday money. He loved hiding under the racks of clothes and laying on the floor. Basically all of the things I never let my own kid do but, you know, what the hell. Hanging a tiny bustier around his neck and donning a floppy hat was super cute. Twirling in circles was cute. Knocking shoes off of the display wall and trying to climb the shelves was not. He enjoyed his raucous freedom and did not want to be held, which was just too bad. So sad. I think I made the point of saying, to nobody in particular, that this was not my child.
BC finished off his cuteness for the day by throwing an hour-long fit because I gave him water and not juice. Because I'm super mean like that.
My arm is sore from lugging him around but yesterday's headache is gone, so am I ready to do it again today? You betcha. Apparently Ruby is his favorite dog. Yeah, he knows how to endear himself to me. Typical male already.
After the first hour this kid had a nickname: Birth Control. He was into everything. And I mean everything. I didn't realize how non-child-proof my house is. I have more breakables than I thought and all well within his reach. D was never like this so maybe I'm just not used to boys. Or I'm just old and amnesic. Really though, she was pretty calm.
In no time at all, BC had colored on my wine fridge, knocked a lamp off a table, expanded the hole in my screen door and picked up a knife. And totally freaked out my dog. Poor Ruby just couldn't make sense of him. She barked and barked and barked until I finally slapped her on the butt, which just completely broke her heart. I'm sure she thought she was defending me from some mutant-sized person and doing a really good job that I just didn't appreciate. Remy, on the other hand, wanted to lick the poor child to death.
We went to pick up D so I could take a shower and when I said "go bye-bye" he started packing up all his toys, including my styrofoam pumpkin that he fell in love with. I finally convinced him we'd be back so he grabbed his blanket, stuffed penguin and toy train. Which is not just a train, but a "railroad" train.
Stupidly, I had promised D we could go shopping to spend her birthday money. He loved hiding under the racks of clothes and laying on the floor. Basically all of the things I never let my own kid do but, you know, what the hell. Hanging a tiny bustier around his neck and donning a floppy hat was super cute. Twirling in circles was cute. Knocking shoes off of the display wall and trying to climb the shelves was not. He enjoyed his raucous freedom and did not want to be held, which was just too bad. So sad. I think I made the point of saying, to nobody in particular, that this was not my child.
BC finished off his cuteness for the day by throwing an hour-long fit because I gave him water and not juice. Because I'm super mean like that.
My arm is sore from lugging him around but yesterday's headache is gone, so am I ready to do it again today? You betcha. Apparently Ruby is his favorite dog. Yeah, he knows how to endear himself to me. Typical male already.
What I Did Last Week
Last week wasn't a totally normal week, even by the standards of my abnormal life.
Sunday D and I got tickets to the rodeo. Rodeos are surprisingly awesome. I usually say no to cowboys but rodeos make me want to say yes. The only bummer was that there was a disappointing number of outfits to make fun of.
D's birthday party was Tuesday. There's not much else to say on that other than this party kicked last year's party's ass.
Thursday I did a video shoot for a friend, something I hadn't done before. I was called "talent", which cracked me up the whole time. By the end, I was feeling a little loopy and if this video had a bloopers reel, most of them would be of me. I also made the mistake of watching the last shot of myself. Cringe-inducing, totally.
Friday was my trip with Gadabout Adventures to see Cirque du Soleil in Portland. I volunteered as hostess to serve the old peeps snacks and entertain them with bingo. Cirque is one of the great loves of my life. It's inspiring and incredible and beautiful. What is it about real beauty that makes me want to be a better person? As for the old people, I was so cute and charming that even the crustiest birds warmed up to me. It was an excellent day.
A friend of mine had a crisis with her daycare last week so I offered to be her daycare. She needed the help and I need the money. Plus new blog material. I also want to teach the kids to pull my weeds and mix my drinks. I am going to be the best daycare provider ever. I just need to keep him away from the redneck retarded inbreds next door.
Sunday D and I got tickets to the rodeo. Rodeos are surprisingly awesome. I usually say no to cowboys but rodeos make me want to say yes. The only bummer was that there was a disappointing number of outfits to make fun of.
D's birthday party was Tuesday. There's not much else to say on that other than this party kicked last year's party's ass.
Thursday I did a video shoot for a friend, something I hadn't done before. I was called "talent", which cracked me up the whole time. By the end, I was feeling a little loopy and if this video had a bloopers reel, most of them would be of me. I also made the mistake of watching the last shot of myself. Cringe-inducing, totally.
Friday was my trip with Gadabout Adventures to see Cirque du Soleil in Portland. I volunteered as hostess to serve the old peeps snacks and entertain them with bingo. Cirque is one of the great loves of my life. It's inspiring and incredible and beautiful. What is it about real beauty that makes me want to be a better person? As for the old people, I was so cute and charming that even the crustiest birds warmed up to me. It was an excellent day.
A friend of mine had a crisis with her daycare last week so I offered to be her daycare. She needed the help and I need the money. Plus new blog material. I also want to teach the kids to pull my weeds and mix my drinks. I am going to be the best daycare provider ever. I just need to keep him away from the redneck retarded inbreds next door.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
How the Farmer's Market Is Going to Make Me Fat
Yesterday the wife and I went to the farmer's market. I had a total craving for grilled veggies. Nothing fancy either, I went for corn, asparagus, artichokes and tomatoes. Too early for corn? Too late for asparagus? The artichokes were tiny and there were no tomatoes. Strike out.
Wifey won a gift card to 5 Fusion, so guess where we went? We ordered booze and fried food. Fried shrimp, fried mushrooms, fried crab cakes, fried fritters. And then we went to Powell's and got gelatto and candy.
Thanks, farmer's market. This better not be the pattern for the summer.
Wifey won a gift card to 5 Fusion, so guess where we went? We ordered booze and fried food. Fried shrimp, fried mushrooms, fried crab cakes, fried fritters. And then we went to Powell's and got gelatto and candy.
Thanks, farmer's market. This better not be the pattern for the summer.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
A Birthday Party Experiment
Tomorrow D is 15 and tonight she's having her birthday party. Last year was traumatic, unnecessarily so. I tried to mitigate some of the drama this year by shortening the time and the number of girls invited.
I am either a genius or there is a big difference between 14 and 15. I choose to think I'm a super genius. So far, anyway.
This is my experiment - I plan on live-blogging this party. Which won't be live by the time I finally publish it, but it will be as it happens. Except for what I have to get you caught up on so far, an hour and 20 minutes into the evening. And if it makes less sense as it goes on, it might be the craziness of being in a house full of teenage estrogen, but it also might be because I'm hanging out with my friend Vodka.
Here goes.
6:23 p.m. So far - I have overheard, "This sounds like 50's porn." Awesomeness right off the bat.
The girls went outside to lie on the sidewalk. I love this because I despise my neighbors. They are the biggest, fattest, stupidest rednecks ever. I have listened to them beat their kids. It's gross. But I don't feel sorry for the kids because they're fucking annoying. I would beat them if it were legal. It should be. Anyway, the girls lying on the sidewalk has completely fucked with the little neighbor brat. He was riding his bike on the sidewalk and now he's totally frustrated, trying to ride his bike on my grass. That part is irritating, but I'm hoping he'll lose his balance and fall in the road. The girls are ignoring him, of course. That's what they're best at this age. They should be, they practice on ignoring us parents constantly.
While I was typing this, a girl showed up who reminded me of a gazelle. I only say that because I hear that gazelles have long legs. No way. This girl's legs are endless. I have never seen legs this long. At this point I'm glad there is no male presence in my house. My staring was perverse enough.
6:35 p.m. O.M.G. This is the best party ever. The girls just came in to tell me the neighbor brat girl thought that one of them was Hannah Montana and asked for her autograph. I told you they're stupid. The teenager's mistake was not signing a fake autograph and continuing the joke. That would have made my whole year.
A mom dropped her kid off who called me earlier today. I think she was trying to make sure that I would be here, without asking directly; she asked to meet me when she showed up. Good parenting. Even if she did leave her daughter in the care of a lush. At least she can rest assured that her daughter won't be drinking.
7:11. p.m. They're playing hide-and-seek. At 15. I guess I don't have to worry about her growing up too quickly.
8:26 p.m. They are eating dinner and watching Ratatouille. Quietly. I might love 15.
8:28 p.m. OMG. They say thank you. For vegetables!!!
8:36 p.m. The vegan ate pasta. And bread. Score!!
8:53 p.m. No pictures of her opening presents because my camera battery was dead. Of course.
9:55 p.m. She just played guitar and sang with her friend. I might have cried. Maybe. Her friend called out, "Sing it out! Sparkle, baby!"
10:01 p.m. They're decorating their cupcakes. While singing "America the Beautiful". This should be interesting.
10:21 p.m. I'm now hiding in my room but I can hear them singing "Bugle Boy" in the kitchen. Karaoke must be next.
I'm signing off now. It wasn't as funny as I thought it would be but nobody cried so it's a win. I'm going to quit while I'm ahead and be grateful for my bugabooga, her talents and the difference a year makes.
As they sing "Dancing Cheek to Cheek"...
I am either a genius or there is a big difference between 14 and 15. I choose to think I'm a super genius. So far, anyway.
This is my experiment - I plan on live-blogging this party. Which won't be live by the time I finally publish it, but it will be as it happens. Except for what I have to get you caught up on so far, an hour and 20 minutes into the evening. And if it makes less sense as it goes on, it might be the craziness of being in a house full of teenage estrogen, but it also might be because I'm hanging out with my friend Vodka.
Here goes.
6:23 p.m. So far - I have overheard, "This sounds like 50's porn." Awesomeness right off the bat.
The girls went outside to lie on the sidewalk. I love this because I despise my neighbors. They are the biggest, fattest, stupidest rednecks ever. I have listened to them beat their kids. It's gross. But I don't feel sorry for the kids because they're fucking annoying. I would beat them if it were legal. It should be. Anyway, the girls lying on the sidewalk has completely fucked with the little neighbor brat. He was riding his bike on the sidewalk and now he's totally frustrated, trying to ride his bike on my grass. That part is irritating, but I'm hoping he'll lose his balance and fall in the road. The girls are ignoring him, of course. That's what they're best at this age. They should be, they practice on ignoring us parents constantly.
While I was typing this, a girl showed up who reminded me of a gazelle. I only say that because I hear that gazelles have long legs. No way. This girl's legs are endless. I have never seen legs this long. At this point I'm glad there is no male presence in my house. My staring was perverse enough.
6:35 p.m. O.M.G. This is the best party ever. The girls just came in to tell me the neighbor brat girl thought that one of them was Hannah Montana and asked for her autograph. I told you they're stupid. The teenager's mistake was not signing a fake autograph and continuing the joke. That would have made my whole year.
A mom dropped her kid off who called me earlier today. I think she was trying to make sure that I would be here, without asking directly; she asked to meet me when she showed up. Good parenting. Even if she did leave her daughter in the care of a lush. At least she can rest assured that her daughter won't be drinking.
7:11. p.m. They're playing hide-and-seek. At 15. I guess I don't have to worry about her growing up too quickly.
8:26 p.m. They are eating dinner and watching Ratatouille. Quietly. I might love 15.
8:28 p.m. OMG. They say thank you. For vegetables!!!
8:36 p.m. The vegan ate pasta. And bread. Score!!
8:53 p.m. No pictures of her opening presents because my camera battery was dead. Of course.
9:55 p.m. She just played guitar and sang with her friend. I might have cried. Maybe. Her friend called out, "Sing it out! Sparkle, baby!"
10:01 p.m. They're decorating their cupcakes. While singing "America the Beautiful". This should be interesting.
10:21 p.m. I'm now hiding in my room but I can hear them singing "Bugle Boy" in the kitchen. Karaoke must be next.
I'm signing off now. It wasn't as funny as I thought it would be but nobody cried so it's a win. I'm going to quit while I'm ahead and be grateful for my bugabooga, her talents and the difference a year makes.
As they sing "Dancing Cheek to Cheek"...
Sunday, June 05, 2011
Four Months
Yesterday marked four months of being unemployed. Not exactly the kind of anniversary that I dreamed about as a kid. Or six months ago. It's getting harder. This week, which came with two rejection notices, sucked a little more.
I tried to roll with it for a couple of months. Play it cool. Not panic. But I'm starting to panic. The calls aren't coming and neither is the money. The jobs just aren't here.
Here's the rub - I'm not a superstar at what I do. I'm good, but not a star. So when I apply for jobs out-of-state, there's no incentive for a company to choose me over someone local. I'm sure there are plenty of locals already looking anyway. I'm not fishing in a small pond. The other side is that I'm overqualified for the jobs that will get me by for a while. Of course I'd keep looking in the meantime and not marry a job I don't want long-term. Employers know this. Again, there are plenty of people applying for those jobs, so there's no reason to risk a short-timer like me.
I feel like everything is telling me to move, my time here is over. My family isn't here, the jobs aren't here, the Relationship isn't knocking on my door and the winters are slowly killing me and driving me insane in the process. So, Universe, I get it. I'm open to change, I'll completely and wholeheartedly embrace it. I just need a little help getting from point A to point B.
I can read a map. I just need someone to give me one.
I tried to roll with it for a couple of months. Play it cool. Not panic. But I'm starting to panic. The calls aren't coming and neither is the money. The jobs just aren't here.
Here's the rub - I'm not a superstar at what I do. I'm good, but not a star. So when I apply for jobs out-of-state, there's no incentive for a company to choose me over someone local. I'm sure there are plenty of locals already looking anyway. I'm not fishing in a small pond. The other side is that I'm overqualified for the jobs that will get me by for a while. Of course I'd keep looking in the meantime and not marry a job I don't want long-term. Employers know this. Again, there are plenty of people applying for those jobs, so there's no reason to risk a short-timer like me.
I feel like everything is telling me to move, my time here is over. My family isn't here, the jobs aren't here, the Relationship isn't knocking on my door and the winters are slowly killing me and driving me insane in the process. So, Universe, I get it. I'm open to change, I'll completely and wholeheartedly embrace it. I just need a little help getting from point A to point B.
I can read a map. I just need someone to give me one.
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