Also makes Chilean Fries. Will not break. Except it did.

More Conversations!
(I like dialogue. Maybe I'll become a screen writer. Wouldn't THAT be awesome?!)

At the Computer Fixing Store.

Me: Hey. [plunks computer case down computer and sliding laptop out] I broke this. [peering at name tag] Brett.

Brett: [with obvious distaste] What is that? [picks up edge with two fingers]

Me: It used to be a laptop.

Brett: Why is there duck tape on it?

Me: [observing laptop in its two separate pieces] It's not Duck Tape. It's Zebra Tape. Besides, it didn't exactly work. Also, it won't hold a charge, so if you move the power cord the computer shuts off.

Brett: ....

Me: Can you fix it?

Brett: Why?

Me: [wrinkling nose] Because I want you to.

Brett: Why?

Me: [scowling] Because.

Brett: You know... [tapping computer] IF we could fix... this. It would probably cost more than buying a new one. How old is this thing?

Me: A lady never reveals her age.

Brett: You gave it a gender?

Me: [blink] Well, YEAH.

Brett: I see. [slides computer back to me] I really don't think so.

Me: [staring] You won't even look at it?

Brett: [shakes head]

Me: BRETT. COME ON.

Brett: [folds arms]

Me: [totally not throwing a dirty look his way and stomping out of the store]

What? It's still usable.

 Whatever. THIS is what it looked like before, remember?

I would totally post a link to that blog post but I seem to have lost it. 

It's not shake 'n bake, but he did help

Scene: Tonight. My house. Post evening play in the neighborhood.

(This is, apparently, my time to think I'm always in a play or whatever. I don't know- just go with it)

Me: Kid, where is your brother?

9: [shrug] He's your kid. You're supposed to know where he is.

Me: [eyes starting to boil] Whoa. Did you just give me ATTITUDE young lady?

9: [sweet smile] I don't give you attitude. I AM AN ATTITUDE!

Me: [whispering to self] I am raising myself. [to 9} Go find him please.

My daughter was just playing around, BTW. We have a weird relationship. Don't judge.

Some time later:

Me: [from top of stairs] KID! DID YOU FIND HIM YET?

9: [materializing from shadows of entryway] Yes.

Me: I don't like it when you do that.

9: [smirk] He's in the garage.

Me: [tromping down the stairs and into the garage] Hey, babe. What... WHAT.

Boy: I'm helping. Only... I can't shut the fridge.

Me: Yeah. Um. Because you've got FOUR CASES OF WATER shoved in it.

Boy: Are you proud of me?

Me: You have no idea.

Boy: [beams]

Lord, have mercy. Please?

That one time I met an Author

So, my last post was about this stupid chick needing to be sterilized.

That post was actually intended to tell you all about WHY I was in Portland in the first place, but I don't really think anyone saw that incident coming and I sort of needed to vent about it. Now that THAT is out of the way, I'm going to share with you the reason I was in Portland in the first place.

Dudes and Dudettes, I totally met The Bloggess. She recently wrote a memoir called Let's Pretend This Never Happened. If you aren't familiar with Jenny Lawson, I reccomend you visit her blog and check her out.

I took my kids with me because I really had no other option. Besides, I haven't tortured them with any kind of grown-up event in quite some time. They were due.

We drove to Portland, only to find out that the book signing was not taking place at the Portland location of Powell's books, like the website had listed. The event was actually taking place in Beaverton, which is about a thirty minute drive in traffic. Excellent. WHY they listed Portland, I do not know. Thankfully, Rawr was able to help me figure out what was going on and where to go. (That was around the time I was telling off the hippie).

The kids and I arrived in Beaverton, found the bookstore and took our places in the audience. And then, IT started.

The whining.

Mom, why are we sitting here? Can I look at books? I need to use the bathroom. Why is that lady sitting next to you wearing a shirt with the Eff Word on it? And how come she is holding dead birds? This is boring. I'm hungry. That lady has on a lot of perfume and it's making my eyes itch. He's hitting me. She started it. LALALALA.

And so on.

I tell you, my patience this week has been pretty thin and for these guys to misbehave the entire hour and a half we were there made me want to scream.

It didn't help that the people behind us were looking at each other and pointing. But, I refused to leave. Yep. I was that mom. But hey, I rarely ever do anything for me. Only recently have I started taking time for myself and this book signing of one of my favorite bloggers was pretty much never going to happen again (unless she write another book) so I made the selfish decision to stay in my seat and correct my children with words like, "Would you two sit down and stop fighting. Keep your hands to yourself. Stop wiping your jawbreaker on your shirt, son. Smallest child, would you please stop manhandling my arm while I'm trying to point threateningly at your siblings? 11, if you can't sit properly in a chair, I'm going to make you sit on the floor."

Hence:

And then this: My youngest has become infatuated with breasts lately. I don't know why. She knows that she was nursed as a baby and recently has taken to reminding me of that fact. It's all very sweet and weird and whatever. So we're sitting there in our chairs and all of a sudden she plows her face into my chest and makes this Mmmm noise.

Me: Kid, what are you doing? Knock it off.

5: These are STILL MINE.

Me: [face burning] The heck they are. Get your face out of there. Those are actually mine. I loaned them to you for a year and look what you did to them.

5: [maniacal laughter] There's milk in them and I will take them from you.

Have you ever wanted to simultaneously shove your kid off your lap while vomiting?

Because I did.

(Um, No. There is not a photo of that)

Gross.I met Jenny Lawson, it was awesome, she signed my book and we left.

Even with all the misbehaving, I'm glad I went.

Some photographic evidence:

 I made my 11 sit on the floor because he refused to behave himself.

The chick who was taking photos needs a lesson in flash and readying people with a phrase like "Get ready!" I'm sure neither Jenny nor myself will be posting this where people can see it.

Except here, of course.

Portlandia: It is SO not made-up

Scene: Portland, OR. My three kids and I are finishing dinner at a restaurant. I'm frantically texting Rawr because I'm having an issue and need assistance with directions. My kids are hanging out near the exit pretty much getting in the way of every member of the staff trying to do their job.

(Heads up: Totally going to write "effing" in place of... you know. The other word)

Radom Hippe: I am SO EFFING SICK OF THIS! GAWD. Stupid baby.

Me: [looking up from phone]

Random Hippie's (supposed husband):  So am I. [gets up and disappears into the restroom]

Me: [eyeing the both, not seeing any baby]

Random Hippie: This morning sickness is absolute &%$!*.

Me: [jaw dropping in disbelief. Flinching when RH notices me looking. Trying to look ANYWHERE ELSE]

RH: Hey. Lady. How long did you have morning sickness with those kids? [gestures WITH HER MIDDLE FINGER at my three precious babies]

Me: Ah...

RH: This is effing bullsh*t. This kid is already a pain in my ass and I'm only five effing months in.

Me: [cough] Um. I think that's terrible.

RH: Yeah. Tell me about it.

Me: [getting over shock] Yeah. No. I think it's terrible that you would talk about an unborn, innocent child that way.

RH: ExCUSE ME?

Me: [at peace with the fact that I'm probably going to get shanked in a fast food restaurant by some crazy Hippie Chick, but you know what, it's okay because after spending twelve years managing one (restaurant, not hippie), I find it oddly comforting and pretty much think it shouldn't happen any other way]

Still Me: You. Speaking about your baby. I sort of hope you give it up for adoption because otherwise HOLY SHIT LADY. [standing to leave because, hello, I'm going to get my arse kicked]

[noticing that RH and her partner are surrounded by an assortment of sleeping bags, backpacking equipment and cigarette cartons. OMG, they're transients]

RH: You're a bitch.

Me: I know. So are you. Good luck with that.

And I left. RH just sat there. I think she was high.

Really? REALLY?

I still can't wrap my mind around it. People like that should be forcibly sterilized.

**Totally not dogging on actual Hippies. In fact, I should probably go back and change my description of her, but in all actuality that's too much work. I will accept the consequences of my writing.

SeeeaHAWKS!

I totally attended a football game this weekend and loved it.

I went with a group of seven people, six of whom I'd never met prior to the game. Normally a situation like that would send me into some kind of spastic tizzy of apprehension, but lately my Nutcase Anxiety has disappeared. It's weird. Like I'm normal. I dunno. We saw the Seattle Seahawks (but don't tell my brothers. They're Cowboys fans) play the Tennessee Titans.

Anyway, I knew Jay, and then there would be two of his friends (husband and wife), two brothers and a girlfriend (I really hope that's who she was. She was really nice but I kind of got lost during introductions and I may have just made that up, but I don't think so. A wife? Crap, Why don't I ever pay more attention...)

Jay and I carpooled up with his two friends, Penny and her husband, C. Penny is due with their baby boy in October (yay!) so unfortunately she couldn't drink. Which I guess left C free rein to take tequila shots from the trunk once we arrived in Seattle.

Remember the last time I went to Seattle? Yeah. This time, there wouldn't be any A-hole bartenders calling me old or punching jerks in the face. I needed to act like a lady.

Which isn't exactly what happened, but my mom reads this so I kind of have to edit the events.

We all went to church and knitted sweaters for orphan puppies.

The End.

Love you, Mom.

Everyone else keep reading.

So on the drive up to Seattle, Jay wanted to talk about the Seahawks. They are his favorite team, after all. Up until Friday of last week I kind of thought the Seahawks might be a rowing team or maybe Hockey, so I made myself listen to Jay explain some STATS and whatnot until I sort of realized that Jay was expressing his undyinglove for Matt Hasselbeck.

In a really weird, unnatural way.

Like, the way Jay was going on about the two of them being best friends and trying to get me to procure Hasselbeck's autograph made me kind of suspicious, but the clincher was when Jay informed me that they were best friends who got restraining orders against each other as a joke.

I'm not really sure it was a joke.

Anyway, I assured Jay that I would absolutely get that autograph (which I didn't) and we moved on to other topics like Polygamists and Mormonism.

All of which I am not, but Jay seems to be fond of making those accusations. I decided to play along and Jay agreed we would look for a wife in Seattle.

We found her at a piano bar once we got to Seattle. She was fun, spunky and brought us Jell-o shots that contained .001% alcohol. I loved her. The only problem was, Jay and I each had a Bloody Mary and promptly forgot about looking for wives to join our commune and set about storming the city for five dollar Coronas sold on the sidewalk that the guys had to consume behind a rope.

Jay: [offering a beer]

Me: Ew. No.

Jay: [offended gaze, still holding beer]

Me: You just paid five bucks for that and now you are in Beer Jail. Everyone can see you drinking that nasty thing.

Jay: Come. Join us. We are in a concentration camp and we are enticing you with beer.

Me: No. Also, you are going to hell.

Jay: [raising the rope] Please?

Me: [rolling my eyes at Penny and slipping through the rope barrier, leaving her knocked up and alone on the street while I stood next to a bunch of fools behind a rope wall]

After the boys drank their over-priced beverages, we ended up on a stoop in an alleyway by the stadium where the boys and I consumed more beers and things got funnier.

Now. A moment.

You know when people enjoy a few beers and the mood is lighthearted? It was like that, only the boys took it a little far. I'm not going to name names, but someone broke some rules and I'm pretty sure the people who live and work in that building are going to be pissed when they discover what happened. And that is all I'm saying about that.

What I will mention is that maybe it was beer #9, or maybe C is a liar, but he did say that he thought I wasn't half bad, so I've made a conscious decision to hang out with drunk people more often.

Other highlights while waiting for the rest of our group to show up include:

• An Asian man, roughly 100 years old, yelling "pea-NUTS!" in his warbly voice (it was endearing) while another man using an accent that we suspected to be fake and we were totally right because he would pause, forget what accent he used and change it.
• Jay kicking some guy's $8 beer and apologizing so sincerely and profusely that the kickee actually apologized to Jay
• Someone peed in a trash can. IT WAS NOT ME.
• Jay rolling up his pant leg and representing the West Wide while wearing his jersey, slacks and dress shoes. Oh. And a pliable fan helmet.I wish y'all had seen it.
• Searching Seattle for the original Starbucks, thinking we found it and being told we were like, 8 miles away from the actual original
• Myself sharing with Jay that I sort of wanted to knock the crap out of the chick who sat behind us in the stadium because her Valley-girl Voice and her super, like, lame topics of conversation were like, really loud and stuff and him telling me that he thought that my violent tendencies were appealing.
• I was so lost as to what was going on in the game, Jay had to give me the rundown on a play-by-play basis which was pretty impressive given the fact that he had about 47 beers and still knew what was going on more that I did.
• Going back to the car at the end of the night and having C ask his wife to pull over so he could get the bottle of tequila from the trunk. Which was funny enough until he climbed out of the window at a red light and took off running down the street. Just jogging. Chasing two bunny rabbits apparently, though I was a little suspicious as to the validity of his claim. Rabbits? In downtown Seattle? Alright. He could have always asked Elmer Fud which way they went.
• The Seahawks totally kicked the Titans butts 27-17. Go Team.

I really had a lot of fun. I won't go and watch football all by myself on television or anything, but I would totally go to another live-game.

I would not feed five dollar Coronas to guys who do really weird things afterwards.

*Also, would someone please remind me that cameras so not serve a purpose when left at home? I don't have any pictures from the weekend.

Weekend Away

Rawr and I dropped our girls off at Girl Scout Camp this weekend.

I didn't cry.

I swear.

Okay. Maybe I got tears in my eyes, but at least I didn't bawl like the first day of Kindergarten where my daughter was too embarrassed to lay claim as my kid and the teacher tried to hug me. Whatever, lady. I could handle it. It's not like I was going to go home and bury myself in her stuffed animals and smell her clothing just to catch a scent of my baby girl.

Rawr and I totally lucked out because her husband offered to not only handle his own three remaining kids at home, but he offered to take my 11 and my 5 as well. Overnight. So we could stay at the beach and enjoy a mini vacation. That man is insane.

Of course we jumped at the chance and the four of us had a great time. I've never had the chance to spend a weekend away with a good friend so it was a pretty excellent experience all around.

Some photographic evidence:

Beach hair does not make me look my best. Even though I know this LOOKS ridiculous, please know that I was merely trying to blow the hair out of my face.

 I wonder if anyone will pick up on the fact that I didn't black out my 9's face.

 These dudes were golfing into the surf, which I found incredibly amusing. And I think they found my amusement amusing as well.

 EW. Rawr touched Sea Snails

 The girls found a huge piece of Sea Kelp and dragged it around the beach like a pet.

 Rawr made us run these. ALL EIGHTY FIVE STEPS. I hate her, I'm never speaking to her again and as soon as my thighs recover, I'm going to walk over to her house and kick her.

 Rollin' in the Hood.

 My 9 and Rawr's 10. Right before the shark attack that turned out to be a shadow.

This is why I adore the ocean

It was all very fun and Rawr's husband has informed the both of us that he will never take on that responsibility again. But I do appreciate his self-inflicted Weekend of Hell.

Middle School will kill ME

Earlier this (school) year, I had the pleasure of helping out in my son's Fifth grade class.

I got to meet a bunch of his classmates and learn which ones I don't want him hanging out with, and those who I wouldn't mind having over some afternoon.

I actually liked pretty much every kid in his class. There were two girls in particular I grew rather fond of. We'll call them Kathy and Harley. Kathy reminded me of myself at that age, and Harley had a cute little lisp that made her seem just so innocent.

My son had a chance to take part in what our school district calls Kickstart, which helps students adjust to a new school setting by allowing students to spend three weeks going through the motions of school and getting a feel for what will take place this fall. Kind of like summer school, but different. Plus, they get to use iPads, which is what sold my kid on the whole summer-interruption situation.

Also, he gets to ride the bus. Which he has managed to miss twice already which is always super sweet because normally I drive him to meet the bus (I know, it sounds ridiculous but just let me finish) before I take a shower. I'm always afraid that I'll do something on accident like run over the curb which will make the state patrol suddenly materialize behind me and he will immediately assume I am drunk. Naturally, he will pull me over, then I'll have to get out of my car with my messy pony tail and my tank top and pajama pants and then everyone I know will drive by and stare at me. And by coincidence, the bank next door will get robbed, I'll inadvertently catch the robber by backing over him as I leave with my traffic ticket and then I will be ON THE NEWS DRESSED LIKE THAT.

Except that I showered this morning because no way was I going on Channel 6 in my ratty tank top. Anyway, I do have a point here. I'll just get to it already.

Today, I had to pick him up from school. Early. Which meant that when I saw my 11's class file out of the gym, I was relieved. I don't know my way around the school yet, and the office staff is filtered out all over the grounds so in order to find him, I would have to basically navigate The Labyrinth..

I waved to my 11, smiled at Kathy, Harley and a few others I recognized and began walking over.

Me: [to self] Gosh, it's so nice that there are kids 11 already knows. That must make it so much easier on him. There's Harley. [wave] She's such a nice girl. Except. Hey. WHOA. WHY IS YOUR ARM AROUND MY KID, HARLEY?

My eyes narrow.


Me: [still to self, BUT BARELY] Get your little paws off my kid, HARLOT.

Harlot: [lisps] Hey, Mith Emily.

Me: [tight-lipped] Hello, Harley.

I'll bet you got that lisp by putting your little claws all over some other Mom's innocent son.


Still Me: [eyes boring hokes into 11's face] Hello, Son.

11: [gulps, shrugs off Harlot's arm] Hey. Mom. Heh. Um...

Harlot: It's good to thee you again, Mith Emily. I love Kickstart.

Me: [holding it together, BUT BARELY] Do you.

Harlot: Yeth. Becauth I get to thee 11.

Me: [BREATHE] Well, that's just... fantastic. LET'S GO SON.


Bottom line? My kid is growing up and I am scared that I will be that trailer park mom in dirty sweatpants with a bad perm who chases off every girl that so much as glances at my son.

Only, guess what.

I have two daughters.

I can only imagine how I will react to boys taking an interest in them.

May God help us all.