Chunk – You Are a Moron

1:45 a.m. REALLY??????????????????????????? 

You know, there is one rule, and the rule is very simple:  Be home by the designated previously-agreed-upon-ETA, or you may alternatively elect to contact one of your two original biological parental figures via email, text, or an actual live voice phone conversation.  You did none of these. NONE. 

And then you go and stay out too late and make me imagine that you are dead and/or horrifically mutilated in the proverbial ditch and not only are you dead and/or horrifically mutilated in said ditch, but you took your friend WITH you to be dead and/or horrifically mutilated in the ditch.   And your little friend that was spending the night? Well, he DID text his parents to tell them where he was.  In the meantime, I was worrying about TWO kids and not just one.  Why the h3ll do you think I’ve been so freakin’ happy about your older brothers moving out?  It is because I don’t have so dayum many offspring to keep track of now.  I know for a scientific empirically observed fact that some animals eat their young.  And it is just because the mothers don’t want to keep track of a whole litter of puppies or kittens or baby rabbits (whatthehellever you call a baby rabbit).

And just so you know, if you ever ARE dead in a ditch, I expect you to contact me via Ouija board to let me know that you are dead in a ditch so that I don’t stay up half the night waiting for you. 

So, there you have it.  You are officially grounded.  Yes, my little friend, you are grounded.  Ground-dead.  I know your poor sleep-deprived father who had to go drag your stupid butt home told you that you would be grounded until you were old enough to drive at age 16, but I will settle for just until you are 15 – which is in a week or so.  Because all kinds of child psychologists tell you to never threaten a punishment that is so long or harsh that you will not be able to follow through with it. 

But actually I think I can manage to top the “you are grounded until you can drive threat.” 

Therefore, as an ADDTIONAL punishment which will assuredly last a lifetime with no further involvement from me, I would like to leave you with the sordid, mind-scrambling, childhood-ruining information that I still have sex with your father.  

Now it’s YOUR turn to be sleepless.

Memo To My Son

Attention: Thunderduck

From: Me

Subject: Your car parked across the street from my house

Message: The neighborhood pigeons have gotten extremely lazy and are no longer roosting in the trees aiming for your vehicle. They have now taken to standing directly on your windshield and crapping at point blank range.

Two-berculosis and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

So I have contracted some sort of fabulous hacking-up disease just in time for the holidays. I know exactly which child came to school ill because it was party day and gave the lovely germ to me, too! Maybe there should be a pop quiz or some other form of torture in said child's future.

In the midst of my pain, illness, and mental anguish, Lurch asks me, "Mom, are you ok?" My reply was "no, I am pretty sure I am dying" and he chirped up, "well, we still have time to get to Payless to get you some shoes!"

Ok, admittedly hilarious. Makes me mad though that his obviously inherited quick-wit comes through when I am in the process of expelling a vital organ (namely, a lung) through the writhing convulsions of my coughing fits.

Trick or Trat

Chunk announced to us at dinner that he wanted to go as FDR on Halloween so that he could just ride down the street in a wheelchair and not have to walk to trick or treat.

Then the conversation devolved when Lurch chimed in that he could be Steven Hawking instead and not even have to yell "Trick or Treat" -- he could just use a Speak and Spell.

"Trick or Trat" "0h shit" backspace backspace "Treat"

So this brought me to ponder: What if Steven Hawking had Tourrette's. Would the Speak and Spell cuss?

Edited to add: How can I get diagnosed with Tourrette's? It sure would save me a lot of grief at the PlaceWhereI'mNotAllowedToYellTheF-WordAnymore.

I Lost 3 Pounds!

In my sleep! I've been home for 2 days (kicked out of school by NurseRatchet) with a 101+ degree fever. Actually up to 102.8 at one point. I don't really remember much from the past 2 days. My tonsils were swollen and it hurt to swallow. So between being passed out from fever and not able to swallow more than a tablespoon at a time of Campbell's delightful concoction from my childhood, not my soul, - their infamous "Chicken Noodle Soup -" I have dropped 3 pounds!

Thunderduck called it the Deathbed Diet.
Yeah, from the creators of Montezuma's Revenge.

I thought I could market it if I lick the tops of some Slimfast cans and hermetically seal them with some sort of cover to keep the germs incubated sufficiently. You, too, can waste away to nothing and never even realize it.

Felix said I'm a dork.

Correction: Felix said I'm SUCH a dork.

Girl's Best Friend

Thunderduck's girlfriend was down for the weekend and they were watching tv together when one of those if-you-really-love-her-you'll-buy-her-a-diamond commercials came on. She told him that the he should be buying her a diamond. He said wait right here...and walked out the door. He came back a few minutes later with a piece of charcoal from the grill. He beamingly placed it into her hand and announced that if she would just squeeze on it for 40,000 years, she'd have a diamond!

She should kill him in his sleep.

I would help dump the body.

Nanny 911

Chunk came in here all upset that I should change the channel and watch Nanny 911 cuz I wouldn't believe these kids were hitting and beating each other and the mom was doing nothing about it.

I don't think I reacted how he wanted.

Cuz I told him that it was probably better that way - it was survival of the fittest, natural selection. As a mother, she just figured if they killed each other at least she wouldn't have to deal with them any more. Sounded like a good plan.

He walked out. I guess I'm no fun.

Heavy Petting

Put this one down in the list of worst pickup lines ever (along with the "I'm on Cialis" gem).

Last year, Lurch was standing around the stadium and saw 2 girls, one of whom was carrying her pet ferret.

Lurch approached the girls and politely asked the one carrying the ferret: "Oh, cool, may I pet your weasel?"

I pretty much burst into tears laughing and walked to the car, leaving him there to figure it out for himself. I DO think he at least got the girl's email address, though.

Plan B

Thunderduck and I have decided that his wedding will need to include a few more laughs than Trainwreck's. (Cuz, let's face it - I was too stressed out and pissed off about last minute stuff to really enjoy it till the tequila started flowing)

We will of course, continue the Bohemian Rhapsody/Wayne's World head-bang mother & groom dance, and I promised that he will get orange cake for a groom's cake, too.

However, all prospective suitors for him need this caveat:
You WILL be embarrassed during the garter toss.
Well, not so much the toss, but the search for the garter all up in your dress. We will need to make sure the chair or bench that wifey sits on has a slipcover of some sort over it. Then Thunderduck will go in and retrieve:
-a golf club
-a lawn gnome
-big-a$$ granny panties
-an Elvis album (or clock)
-possibly a ham sandwich

Yes, he is cute. There is a price. You have been warned.

Wedding Quotes

Top quotes overheard at Trainwreck and his new bride's wedding last night:

1) after the leftover cake was dropped by DrunkenCollegeKid1 in the parking lot - BosnianDrunkenCollegeKid watched Thunderduck and MyPoolBoy salvage the top tier back into the box to load it into the car to be sent home for dorm-room consumption later, leaving the other tier on the asphalt - comment regarding the cake remaining on the asphalt:
"In Bosnia, that's still good cake!"

2) when Thunderduck introduced me to his friends - comment regarding his expectations for their behavior for the evening:
"Hey guys, this is my mom. No hitting on my mom."

3) during the father of the groom toast (MyPoolBoy) - comment regarding advice to the bride:
"Thanks for taking him off our hands. Now go buy lots of bleach."

4) after ReallyDrunkenCollegeKid dropped leftover-send-to-the-dorm fruit bouquet in the floorboard of Thunderduck's car - comment regarding fruit in the floorboard and his lack of recollection of how it came to be in the floorboard and Thunderduck's futile attempts to clarify the situation:
RDCK-"Dude, what is this in the floor?"
TD-"It's fruit"
RDCK-"Dude, why is their chocolate covered fruit in the floor?"
TD-"You dropped it"
RDCK-"How did I drop chocolate covered fruit in the floor?"
TD-"You were holding the fruit bouquet and you dropped it in the floor"
RDCK-"Who gave me chocolate covered fruit?"

Heavy Metal

Well, Moses had a staff that parted the sea. We've had staph in the field house. And now the staff went to a whole new place....The high school faculty faced off in the grand championship flag football game against the senior boys last night. I said it was the seniors vs. the senior citizens. That meant MyPoolBoy got to play against Lurch. It was hilarious to say the least. Lurch was talking smack and doing somersaults in front of MyPoolBoy to aggravate him.

I nicknamed it the metal bowl because of the silver hair and the various iron men and men of steel on the field (the iron and steel were in all the pins in knees, plates in necks, etc. on the old guys, mostly MyPoolBoy).

I told them they should have adopted new names like Ty Lenol, Jerry Tall, Ben Gay. I also offered to cheer De-Fense De-Fense for the seniors and De-Pends De-Pends for the faculty. It was not well-received. I think I am slightly underappreciated, don't y'all? Anyway, when their principal came out to hang out on the sidelines I heard MyPoolBoy ask him why he wasn't playing - I shot out that they were going to need SOMEONE still able to move a finger to dial subs for all of them tomorrow! Also not well-received.

Here's the punch line - the freaking faculty WON 21-20. HILARIOUS!

Aunty Em! Aunty Em!

There is something about tornadic activity on the Doppler radar that draws out the rednecks.

Thunderduck was on his way here from college and called us from a little past the halfway point. He said his first clue that there was a storm coming was when the black weather chaser vans with their big antennae came hauling a$$ past him on the highway. He decided to slow down and call us to see if he was heading into some kind of storm. We told him to stay where he was and let us call him to tell him when to head on in because we were going to watch the storm on the tv and yes, it was really a storm. Two, in fact. One was passing over us and another was headed his way in about 45 minutes so we wanted to keep him in between the two as he drove in.

So, he pulls over to a convenience store in a semi-small town and goes in to wait out the rain/hail and get a coke. Inside the store the rednecks had congregated. Thunderduck was beside himself and called me - "Mom, please can I leave yet? I'm having IQ points sucked from my brain just standing here!" Dumba$$ #1 comes running in from the hail and rain and decides he needs beer to calm his nerves. Dumba$$ #2 tells him that he thought it was letting up so they must be "in the eye of it" whereupon Dumba$$ #1 runs back out to his truck in the hail and rain to get the necessary funds to procure said beer. Natural Light being the beer of choice during just such an emergency, (like white wine with fish?) Dumba$$ #1 finds himself 6 cents short on money and is standing at the checkout line pondering is quandary. Dumba$$ #2 suggests that there might be money is HIS truck so HE runs out into the non-eye of the storm and digs around in the floorboards for the 6 cents. He triumphantly returned and there was much jubilation and celebration for the acquisition of beverages. Thunderduck at this point was DYING to leave. I told him that he should never look at being surrounded by lower-intelligence life forms as a necessarily BAD thing - it is ALWAYS to be embraced as an opportunity for blogging material.

I Drink. You Can't Judge Me.

Chunk was in the shower one evening and I kept hearing all this banging around in there - knocking into the shower walls / slipping sounds.

I fearfully asked him what all the noise was and he admitted to me that he had Weasel (our little chihuahua-sized dog) in there with him. He kept banging around cuz she kept trying to get out and he was slipping trying to keep her in there.

Chunk thought she needed a bath and he just put her in there with him to kill two birds with one stone.

Of course, this is the same child that I asked how often he used shampoo in his hair and he replied "every time I shower" and I (with trepidation) asked how often THAT was and he said "at least once a ... week"

An Open Letter

To all the girls who potentially want to date one of my sons:

Here is a little advice on how to impress me....

I am basically a shallow person. I want decent-looking grandchildren. If your gene pool cannot produce decent-looking offspring don't even hit on them. I refuse to have ugly grand-chillruns photos in my wallet.

Furthermore, just to prove that I am basically a shallow person, I will probably scrutinize the clothing you wear. If what you wear proves beyond a doubt that Halloween is in fact your favorite holiday (year round, no matter what) move your goth-a$$ self on to your next "victim." Also, if your momma didn't check what you were wearing (or not wearing) when you walked out the door and you look like my son might have paid a couple of hours wages to bring you home to me, keep walking!

One more thing: I will NOT tolerate anyone being prettier than me.

Locker Room Talk

Ok, so we are on week 4 of decorating the football locker room for the PetyonPlace Packmules, and another mom and I have more or less been relegated to the signage that is to go in the restroom/urinal area... due to our inability to keep it lady-like. Last week when our poker-themed decor included a hand of 5 suited cards glued to a "Flush the *Rodents*" sign, her "Kick Ace" sign mistakenly got painted to say "Kick A$$" and she joined the ranks of the rank.

This week we are playing a team of felines. She wrote on the TOILET PAPER with a sharpie -- rolled it out about 20 feet each roll and wrote Wipe Out the *Felines* and rolled them back up!
(I think I may have found a new soulmate)

We also got a sign up that says "Packmules Go Hard!" (a saying that some of the boys yell in the huddle) -- We countered the other side of the urinals with one that says "*Felines* Goes Soft" - complete with wrinkly pink letters! Add to the mix the "Send 'em to the litter box" sign, the "Control the Pet Population: Neuter a Cat" sign, and our soon-to-be-infamous "*Felines* are Pu$$ies" sign.

We are probably going to burn in the 7th level of poor role model h3ll for this.

Kung Fu

Adding to my video-creation repetoire

A Night at the Rockhoppers

Two brothers compete in a quest to become the best Dance Revolution player at their local mini-golf arcade. Thrills! Drama! Rhythm! (ok, ONE of them doesn't have rhythm)

I found another one!

This is where my tuition money is going??????

I'm So Proud

There is a video of my son on YouTube boxing in the dorms with a very large guy known only as "Bunga"



Where did I go wrong?

bwi

Blogging while intoxicated.

Friday night - big county-wide rivalry football game going on down the street. MyPoolBoy is having to help work the game. I'm having appletinis and trying to decide if I want to get off my a$$ and do the house cleaning that I slept too late to do this a.m.

OH I almost forgot -- My weight was down THIS AFTERNOON! I am eating right even after the bout with the stomach bug and not being able to work out Tue & Wed. I think I'm not drinking enough water, though...it has been a crazy week trying to catch up with everything. Ok, anyway.

Thunderduck called us last night and said he was in class and was about to talk to his professor to get to leave because TrainWreck sliced his finger open with a knife while washing dishes because their dishwasher is SMOKING. ok - I don't want to know WHAT they did to the dishwasher....
So.
Thunderduck gets back to the dorm (walking because his keys were locked in VickyValencourt's dorm room upstairs) and there is apparently a lot of blood in the water. TrainWreck has it wrapped up and Thunderduck wants to know what emergency clinic they can go to with the insurance card because he lost the list. I told him to call his Granny and ask her what would be the closest/cheapest one and we would handle whatever the cost was after the billing. I asked him how bad it was, did it need stitches, etc. and he put TrainWreck on the phone and he tells me that he cut it pretty deep and he thinks he needs stitches. In the meantime, their Granny got there and she looked at it and got on the phone and said, well, you'd think he'd cut his d1ck off the way he is carrying on. She proceeds to tell me that the cut is on the TOP of his finger, it is less than an inch long and it is not to the bone, nor has it cut any veins or arteries or anything. I told him to go to the on-campus clinic today and get a tetanus shot (because the freakin' genius has LOST his shot record). Ok, so now here is where it turned to typical "why can't I have normal kids" conversation. The REAL thing that was upsetting TrainWreck was that he was worried about losing too much blood (because the warm water made the finger bleed more PLUS the water dispersed the blood so much it LOOKED like he had lost a lot of blood). ANYWAY the fear was that his new "career path" is no longer pimping himself out to the psych department because the $30 was too few and far between -- oh, no it is far more lucrative to donate blood every week for $50 the first time and $30 a week after that. He even got his Social Security card replaced because the friend who referred him was going to get $10 for the referral and he really needed TrainWreck to go down there but since TrainWreck had lost his SS card, hmmmm...... what to do? The guy DROVE TrainWreck to the SS office so he could get a replacement card. AND APPARENTLY he has big plans for Spring Break now, too because there is a sperm bank in Dallas that pays $500 for each "deposit" Oh heavenly days. No wonder I have gray hair.

Ok, and then last night at Chunk's football practice I overhear this woman talking to another woman about being in a pet store looking at some dog and that she was able to talk to the guy about getting FINANCING FOR THE FRIGGIN' DOG and her friend was nodding and playing the home version of the game right along with her! Do you know how many rednecks there are in PeytonPlace? Apparently 2 more than I last counted.