Holy Moldy

Summer's here, the kids are out of school, and my patience is being tried harder than the OJ Simpson trial. Other than the usual I'm so bored, my son has decided he no longer needs showers. But mom, it's not like I have school tomorrow or anything. And even though I've told him he's beginning to smell worse than our dogs, he is refusing to take a shower.

After his little tirade last night where he actually went into the bathroom and apparently ran the shower for fifteen minutes while building his lego ship (never bothering to actually get in the shower), I figured enough was enough. It was time to get creative.

I found an old spray bottle and mixed green food coloring with water (I was fresh out of kool-aid). I then snuck up to his room and sprayed him while he slept (good thing he sleeps like a rock). Of course, I was awaken to shrill screams this morning as my son comes running into my room screaming he was sick. Holding back the giggles, I told him I was afraid this would happen. I then go on to tell him that his lack of showers has allowed mold to begin to form on his body.

Needless to say, he has had two showers today and almost all the mold has washed off. Ah, the joys of being a parent...

That's A Lot Of Cock

It's been about two weeks since Dick has been back and I have seemingly developed tourette's syndrome. You see, we discovered that we drive each other insane quite often. We then allow those annoyances to turn into heated arguments which in turn, escalate to an all-out brawl. In order to squash all that, we devised a plan -- when we get on each other's nerves, we say the word cock to get the other to shut the hell up. So far, it is working.

The only problem is that I say the word a lot. While grocery shopping, I shout cock as Dick's complaining about the prices began to sound like nails on a chalkboard. While fishing, I yell cock as he is constantly bitching about how windy it is. I said it so many times yesterday while painting that I thought I would begin to show rooster-like behavior. I had already had a habit of saying oh god when I was displeased with something -- throw cock in the mix and I appear to be mental.

The looks I've received are just as funny. The way people react to some crazy bitch shouting cock is downright hilarious. I'm sure some think I'm some sex craved loon, but that's fine by me. It'll give them something to talk about at their next boring luncheon. I'm just glad that I haven't felt the need to polish up my forks and stab Dick in the eyes (yet). I know things will not always be peachy, but for now, I'm going to enjoy the peace and quiet (even if I have to yell cock to get it).

Not So Hot Haters

There is nothing more amusing than watching a bunch of haters. Their jealousy shines through like nipples in a wet t-shirt contest. I'd like nothing more than to round them all up in one great big room, sprinkle them with gasoline, and throw a match right in the middle of them all. They piss me off to no end and I dealt with my fair share of them this past weekend.

Every year, we spend the Fourth of July weekend at the river. There's nothing like fishing and laying out in the sun to forget all your troubles. I had every intention of doing just that this past weekend, but of course, fat chance.

I had set my chair up along the beach and rubbed myself down with lotion. No sooner had I sat down and opened my book, I heard giggles and whispers. I look over and see two women chatting it up and looking my way. I listened a little harder while I pretended to pay them no mind and discovered they were talking about me. Their comments ranged from my big ass to my pale skin. I wanted peace and quiet, but was obviously not going to get it.

I finally had enough. I got up, grabbed a bucket, filled it with water, and marched my ass right on over to the pair. I stood directly in front of their chairs and threw the water on them. They looked at me as if I had lost my damn mind. I politely said that since they thought they were so hot, I figured I'd be neighborly and cool them off. Without giving them a chance to say anything, I turned around, marched back to my seat, and began reading my book in peace. The rest of my weekend was rather enjoyable (and yes, I could probably benefit from a little therapy).