Boogies.

The waiting room was quiet when we arrived. One sweet little grandpa in the chair by the train table. One mother and teenage daughter by the magazines. Immediately, Emmi monopolizes the attention in the room. She smiles. They smile. She throws trains and laughs. They laugh. I frown. She hides under a chair. Laughing.

Grandpa leans forward. "Aren't you just the cutest little thing," he says while reaching toward her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. You could loose a hand."

Grandpa's jaw drops. He stammers. "Ahhh she is just a cute little girl."

"Yeah, Buddy. Looks can be deceiving. Seriously, she growled at me a few minutes ago. Ask my dad. He heard her. GROWLED, I tell you."

Grandpa giggles, obviously not understanding the danger in this situation. "Come here you sweet little Goldilocks. I can get the ladies to give you a lollipop. Let's get them to give you a lollipop."

"No really. She is good under the chair. Don't lure her out." I am loosing patience with Grandpa.

Grandpa stands, walks to the counter, grabs a lollipop, and turns toward Emmi. "Here you go Sweety. You want the candy?"

Slowly Emmi crawls out from under the chair. Grinning. Poor Grandpa. I told him not to. I told him to leave her under the chair. Skippity, skippity, skip. Emmi scampers over to Grandpa. She reaches for the lollipop, then quickly draws back her hand before grabbing it. She wrinkles her nose. Scratches, then goes in for the kill. Glee. It is the largest boogie she has ever scored. She grins at the boogie. She turns a slow circle. She eyes the tissue box. Then she turns back to Grandpa, sweet unsuspecting Grandpa. In one swift moment, she wipes the boogie on Grandpa's arm and grabs the lollipop.

Told ya' Gramps. I told ya'.

Chinese Fire Drill. Minus the Chinese.

My day started off horribly yesterday. It ended pretty badly too. In fact, no single part of it was good. At the time, I cried. This morning it seems pretty funny.

Long story short, Emmi was missing an immunization that was overlooked, so her surgery was postponed. The next available date is two weeks away, and the shot has to be given at least two weeks prior. Meaning she had to have it yesterday to even qualify. Kenny and I ran out the door at 10:30 am, picked Emmi up early from school, and rushed off. The throbbing in my head escalated, and I demanded that Kenny pull over to get me a drink so I could take my happy pills.

Pulling out of the gas station, Kenny says "The brakes feel funny. Did they feel funny the last time you drove it?"

"They always feel funny to me. Switching between this big 'ole car and my little car, I am always.....IS THAT SMOKE?!"

Sitting at the light, smoke begins to pour from under the hood of the car. Being on a major road, we need to at least get to where we can pull over. Panic begins to set in. "Unbuckle Emmi, so you can grab her as soon as I turn the corner."

Light changes, Kenny turns the corner, brakes lock up. Both Emmi and I fly across the car. Smoke billows from under the car. Kenny and I jump from the car, pulling Emmi out.

"Our computers are in there, GRAB THEM. And my PURSE, GRAB MY PURSE. RUN EMMI, RUN!"

We cross the grass over to the church on the corner, and turn to watch what we are sure is our car about to explode. Cars screetch to halt. People yell out if they can help and if all of our children our out of the car.

I cover Emmi's eyes, and shield her from the now approaching blast.

Nothing. The smoke clears. The engine ticks as it cools. We take a few cautious steps forward. Nothing. Few more steps. Nothing. We tentatively approach the car. Still nothing.

"YOU GOD DAMN, MOTHER FUCKING, PIECE OF SHIT CAR. I FUCKING HATE YOU."

Two hours, one tow truck, one body shop, and sixty dollars later, we sit and wait to be picked up off of the side of Buffalo Speedway.

Emmi laughs hysterically.

Babies Love Porn

The gameroom is a huge mess. AGAIN. Emmi came home from school in a sour mood, so I plopped her in front of the TV while I went upstairs to clean. All was fine for the first few minutes. Then I hear the channel change. No problem. Sounds like she is watching the news. It changes again. This time to MTV. Oh well, a few minutes of TRL won't hurt her. Then the TV goes quiet. She must have found the volume button. Even better. Now she can't hear what the songs on MTV say. I leave well enough alone, because, afterall, the gameroom MUST be cleaned. I am just happy to have a few minutes in which I can get it done.

Then I hear something strange from the TV. What is she watching now? Huh? I should probably check on that. I leave toys scattered across the floor and head to the stairs. Volume goes up. WAY up. And then I hear it.

"Oh yeah. Baby do me harder."

What the fuck? I run down the stairs.

I can't work the goddamn remote, but Emmi can figure out how to order porn on Pay-Per-View! After I recover, I calmly look at Emmi.

"No ma'am. No more ordering porn on pay-per-view. Now tell me, Emmi, how do I block the ppv channels."

"Hummanamaananaumham."

I think she just said, "I just cost you $29.50."

The Crazy Folk

We all have our crazy relative stories. Ask any member of my family, and hands down we all pick the same person as "The Crazy" in the family. While spending our 90th hour in the hospital waiting room with a flood of Kenny's relatives, I was introduced to Kenny's crazy folk. She, my friends, takes the cake on nuttiest relative. While her behavior at the hospital was quite strange, it is the story of three Christmases ago that moved her into first place.

After the whole everyone buy everyone a gift thing was getting way out of control, it was decided that the family would do a gift exchange. Wrap it, throw it in a pile, and take turns picking and then stealing gifts. We have all played this game, and I am going to say, the neighborhood ornament exchange last year got quite brutal. I almost lost a hand, but that is another story. Kenny's sister received the first gift from Crazy. She unwrapps the box to discover Glow In The Dark Sex Lotion! Now, I must explain, Crazy works at a Cindie's. If you don't know what that is, go look it up. Perhaps, if she weren't sitting next to her fiance this might not be quite as embarassing. Or perhaps if she were at a lingerie party this would be appropriate. But this isn't even the best part of the story.

Kenny's grandpa is this sweet little man. Poor unsuspecting Grandpa gets the next gift. Wrapping paper slowly peels back. Confused look crossing Grandpa's face. He turns the box over in his hands. Then holds it up for all to see. Grandpa is now the proud owner of...uhhumm..a VIBRATOR!

Monkey Business

Blame it on the number of times I watched Poltergeist as a kid, but I have always kind of believed that toys get up and walk around when no one is watching. After cleaning the gameroom this evening, I am totally convinced it is true. I am also convinced that Prince Charming is one sick fuck.

Meow. Ehem. Me-ouch.

I know this happened awhile back, but I thought some of you might enjoy.

Kenny pulls into the driveway with a car full of boxes and a grin. "Hey Baby, guess what I found?" Uhh. Boxes? "No. Boxes FULL of Arden B and Bebe clothing in your size from one of the condos I manage." Apparently the tenants moved out and left me a present. We'll call it compensation for all of the crap they caused during their lease. Kenny drags the boxes out of the car and into the garage. "The neighborhood garage sell is this weekend, so whatever you don't want, we'll sell." I make two piles and begin sorting through my goodies. Score. Score. Score. Garage sell. Score. Kenny is definitely on my good side now. I rip into box three.

"Uhh, Kenny, did you open this one."

"No. Why?"

"What did you say she did for a living?"

My guess. A stripper. I mean no one has that many see through tops and rip away skirts. Except maybe Sheri. I kid. Sort of. I pull out a feather trimmed, see-through robe to unearth, that's right, a full-body leopard print catsuit. Oh hell. After a good laugh, we toss it into the garage sell pile. The Mexican ladies who show up at the end of the sell and offer you $20 for all of the rest of your belongings will definitely get off as soon as they see that.

But then a glass of wine later, and I formulate a plan. Hehee. I am funny. While Kenny goes out to water the grass, I sneak out to the garage and grab the leopard suit. I am giggling so hard I can barely pull the thing on. It is about as far from attractive as you can imagine. Bright orange spots stretched tight against a two-time, child producing belly. Hell. Even better. I find the tackiest black shoes I can find, and to top it off, head up the stairs to steal a feather boa out of the kids' dress up box.

I open the bedroom door a crack to make sure Kenny is still outside. I don't want to spoil the effect before I find the feather boa. I call his name. I listen. Nothing. I open the door a bit more. And then I hear the growling. "Shut up, Sadie," I hiss. The dog starts barking. Then Macy the Lazy Dog jumps off the couch. Grrrrrr. "Shut up." Macy lunges at me. The damn dog tried to bit me!

I run. In heels. And a leopard catsuit. Across the wood floor that I am trying not to scratch with my black heels. Kenny hears the commotion. He opens the door just as Macy bites me on the ass.

Meow.

Overbaked babies.

Jill is going to have another little sister soon. Octoberish. Oh, wipe that shocked look off your face. It isn't me. It is her dad. Well, technically it is Andrea, as I am pretty sure him being pregant is physically impossible.

Jill says, "Maybe the baby will be born on my birthday."

"No, Sweety, that is impossible."

"Why not, Mommy."

"Because then the baby would be overbaked."

"What happens when you overbake a baby?"

"Well, Jill, what happens when you overbake a cookie?"

I lean back against the wall, take a sip of my drink, and watch her ponder this for a minute. The last time I burned cookies, they had marshmallows in them. They poofed up way too big. I am sure she is remembering this.

"I know, Mommy...... They turn brown!"