OCD would really come in handy now

My latest bad choice of the day is offering to design and make my friend's wedding invitations. She would rather spend $3,000 on a videographer that will document the big day, all to cheesy music that will later on remind her of how bad music is these days, rather than spend $1,500 on invitations that will be promptly be thrown in the trash (damn, where the hell did we put the directions to that reception? Forget the reception, do you even remember what day, let alone what time the wedding is? If I have to call the bride's mother, I swear I am going to be pissed).

And I am not just saying this because my videographer/bestest-best-friend-and-undercover-lover-of-my-brother-in-law got hammered the night before our wedding and the video is nowhere to be found. I wouldn't be surprised if it showed up one day with clips of the Airport Bar included.

So what did I do about this invitation situation? I found lots of "pretty paper" (an odd size). I bought lots, but not enough. Just enough to have me committed to that GD "pretty paper," that, surprisingly, is not available on the internet, and apparently is no longer carried in stores. Unless you special order. Which requires talking to Jeff, the store manager, who is looking at you with an odd look. You can only imagine it is because it is 2:00 p.m. and you are standing in front of him wearing your pajamas. Which you wore, in your defense, because you thought you would just be able to run in and out of STORE NUMBER FOUR looking for the odd size "pretty paper" and only upon not finding any left did you realize that you were going to be required to seek professional attention regarding this matter.

There was then an incident with a rubber stamp company involving the purchase of the Chinese character (which must be referred to as a character rather than symbol, because if you refer to symbol, your friends will then ask if you refer to them as "Oriental" as well, which is apparently better than "yellow" but not by much) for "love" and so now there are "love" stamps coming from all over the world. Hopefully soon.

I then made the mistake of asking my husband what he thought of the changes I made to the reply cards.

D: Yeah, I think I would put "requested" on the next line.

If I had wanted his opinion, I probably should have asked for it BEFORE I printed up 250 reply cards with "requested" on the first line rather than the second. And I am not doing them over again.

My sister, the one with the OCD, she would do them over again if she thought they would look better. Me, I just think that 95% of the people won't even notice that "requested" would look better on line two, and of those 95%, 35% will not even return the reply cards and will be emailing the bride the Thursday before the wedding to tell her they are coming. So I guess it would be OCD wasted anyway, huh?

The anatomy of a "Bad Bet"

K: He is so going to throw up in my hair while I am asleep tonight.
D: No, he's not.
K: I'll bet he will.
D: Double or nothing (referencing an outstanding debt that continues to grow, because, I'm an idiot).
K: Double or nothing he vomits in my hair tonight.

(sideline: flash to Beautiful Girls)
Paul: I can't find Jan (his ex). I'll bet she's with that meatcutter Victor.
Birdie: She's not with Victor.
Paul: I'll bet you $20 she's with Victor.
Kev: Bad bet.
Paul: What do you mean, "bad bet?"
Kev: It's a bad bet. If you are right, she is with Victor. If you are wrong, you gotta pay $20. Either way you lose. Bad bet.

D: But I want to be clear about the vomit in the hair.
K: What are you talking about? you want to decide what actually constitutes vomit in my hair?
D: Yeah, what if he just vomits and some splashes up on one piece of your hair. I'm not paying $80 for vomit on one piece of hair.
K: I think any vomit, even if only on one strand of hair, is payable.
D: I don't think so.
K: So if I lie in bed beside you, with one strand of hair with vomit on it, and decide not to take a shower, you'll be OK. Just lying beside me, knowing that there is vomit in a strand of my hair, yet not knowing exactly WHICH piece of hair is foul?
D: OK, I'll pay up for one strand.

Of the 11 times he has vomited on me in two days, you think the kid could have been nice enough to do it so I could get $80. I am SO getting him back when he turns 15.

Living a charmed life

This morning I was having a lovely dream. We were on a boat with my in-laws in Hawaii. There was some discussion about my father-in-law's driving, and then my mother-in-law threw up.

K: Did you just throw up?
MIL: Yes, I hope it didn't get on you.
K: Just a little spray in the air.

Then she did it again. A WOOOSHHH of vomit.

Except we weren't in Hawaii, we weren't on a boat, and it wasn't my mother-in-law. I opened my eyes to find my child vomiting on me.

UGH! you say. Which time? The first time or the second time (Blue Raspberry Flavorice) or the successive 5 times. His father, showing his generosity by sharing his flu with his son, called at 10:30 to say that he was sick and was coming home from work. Not 30 minutes after he got home, I heard the boy working his magic in the kitchen.

E: This.
D: Do you want some bread, buddy?
E: This!


K: Why are you giving him bread?
D: He wants some.
E: This.
K: He is vomiting up bile.
D: Am I supposed to tell him no?

No? Tell the boy no? Is that an option?

Fastforward 2 hours later. The husband handed the boy over to me. And he vomited what looked disturbing like it had at some point, been bread. He had the kid for 2 hours and when did he throw up? Within 20 seconds of being handed to me.

There was a diarrhea incident, but I won't bore you. For the next 10 hours, every time the husband handed me the baby, the baby threw up on me. Not on his father, just me. I'm on my fifth outfit of the day. The boy is on his second. Because early on he figured out how to lean over to vomit, completely missing his own clothes.

If there is a God, this will be the 24, and not the 72 hour flu.

It's about time he contributed something other than lack of sleep or quiet

He has been sucking us dry. Some of us, literally, some figuratively. Let's be honest. That apple sauce, yoBaby yogurt and organic plums will hit you in the wallet. I mean, the kid must be costing us $ 10-12 dollars a week.

But it appears he has found a potential financial contribution to this family. You know when you go to IKEA and you get to the kitchen section and there, enclosed in the plexiglass is the machine opening and closing the cabinet door 37,234 times to show you how durable IKEA cabinets are? What do you think it is costing to run the electric to that thing day in and day out? I'm thinking renting the kid would be cheaper for them and would contribute to the family financial coffers.

His lastest thing is the endless pushing of the door open/close button on the X-Box. Open, close, open, cl, ope, close, open, clo. For hours. This does not bother me in the least because frankly, for years, I have been an XBox widow. All those nights I was cold in my bed, alone, listening to the sounds of Interactive Halo 2...

"I killed you!!"
"Hey, I gotta go. My mom said dinner is ready."

The loss of XBox for me would be like my loss of my birth control pills for, say, my husband. I can hear him now. "Too bad, so sad, come on over, come on over, Baaaaby!"

I wonder if IKEA would pay him by the push?

And they say law enforcement officers are stupid

On the news today, our local rug-wearing newscaster informed us of a most important cock fighting bust today (you could actually feel the intesity in the air). As he interviewed the animal control officer, the officer indicated that there had been no arrests. He indicated that in addition to the 30 to 40 roosters found on the property, there was additional evidence of cock fighting. They panned the camera to the owner of the property.

He was the one wearing the ball cap that said "Cock Fight" on the back of it. I wonder if the front of the cap said "Dumb Ass."