“Rissa, if I were a dude, would I be a douche?” I ask – brushing through my hair after my morning shower. “Pardon?” “If I was a guy, do you think that I’d be the type of guy who’d be kind of douchey?” “Other parents don’t ask these questions.” “I just had this thought, is…
“Not cool! This is NOT cool!” I exasperate. “What? What is it?” David responds. “I peed my pants FIVE times today while coughing!!!” “Oh hon… You’ll do better tomorrow… Tomorrow you can make it to six!” “Do NOT make me laugh.” I have already crossed my thighs in preparation for any laugh leakage. David and…
“Ooooh… naked body…” says David as we hop into the shower together. He presses himself against me. “Dude.“ “What?” He lathers me suggestively. COUGH. COUGH. HACK. WHEEZE. spit. He stops momentarily. “You okay?” “Oh yeah, I’m great. Lung butter up to my clavical, but I’m good.” “You know what would make you feel better?” Without…
“Just one more? Please can’t we watch just one more?” I beg. “No Mummy. We’ve already watched three episodes. You’re done,” says Rissa. I look over to David forlornly. He shrugs. “The kid has spoken. It’s bedtime for Bonzo.” I throw myself across their laps, wailing in dissatisfaction. They are unmoved. As I am lying…
“Heather, what do you want for… HOLY CRAP!!!” says David as he sticks his head behind the shower curtain. He’s reacting to the shower wall, upon which I have left all the ‘extra’ hair from my head. And by ‘extra’ hair, I mean the hair that I regularly lose when I wash my hair. “Are…
Minuit, the oldest and most crotchety of our cats has a predilection for lap dances. Not the pervy receiving of… it’s not like she’s hanging around at the Brass Rail with $5 bills in her paws, waggling her eyebrows at the dancers. This cat, this 6 year old, overweight feline… she gives a kick-ass, albeit…
“Oh God… gag… gag… BLECH… shudder “What? What is it?” David asks from upstairs. “Putting molasses on top of peanut butter toast doesn’t help,” I say. “Anne-Marie was wrong.” I shudder, still gagging, as I begin to scrape the molasses layer off of my peanut butter. gag… gag… Two days ago, when I was complaining…
We are in the Men’s Outerwear department at Sears. (David has finally abandoned his attempts to zip up his existing jacket with an XL paper clip.) “This one. This one is good.” David holds up a long, black parka. “You haven’t tried it on yet.” “Yes, but it LOOKS good. Good hood, good pockets…” David…
David has been wanting to upgrade my computer for the past two years. About a month ago, I finally capitulated. “All right.” “All right?” “Start the search.” “The search for…? “A new computer.” “REALLY!?!” “Really.” I couldn’t take the endless UNRESPONSIVE SCRIPT warnings and time lags – which is hilarious, because anyone in their 40s…
I recently made the mistake of looking at the nutritional information on the President’s Choice “World’s Best” Eggnog. 1 cup = 290 calories. 290 CALORIES??? Without the rum?? Sure, on occasion, one might drink eggnog sans rum, but I don’t. Which means that I’ve gotta add that extra 72 calories for an ounce of rum. …