My Super Smart Move

Today my mom and I took Lucy(fer) and Damien to a local farm to pick apples, jump on a moon bounce, ride a tractor, and spend time being thankful that we don’t actually live with the kids.  Surprisingly enough, the kids were pretty well behaved.  Except for the ride up-Lucy(fer) screamed for about 10 minutes because her mother wasn’t with us.  It took so much out of her that she passed out in her seat.  Frankly, the last time that I passed out like that was when I downed a fifth of Vodka, but that’s a story for another day.

You don’t want to hear about snotty nosed kids picking apples.  What you want to hear about is my super smart move.  Knowing that I was going to be out in the country on some flipping farm, I decided to wear my sneakers.  I was in a hurry when I grabbed a pair, put them on my feet, and then ran out the door.  When we got to the orchard, people would give me strange looks, or smile at me like I was retarded.  “What the fuck is there problem?” I asked my mother.  “Catherinette, don’t use that type of language in front of the children.”

Three hours into our adventure, I happened to look down at my feet.  Stupid me had grabbed one sneaker with red trim on it, and one sneaker with pink trim on it.  My shoes did not match.  No wonder they were looking at me like that, I totally was retarded.

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Mmm…Babies. Tastes Just Like Chicken!

Let me ask you a question: what do you do with small babies around the holidays? 

Frankly, I think if they can’t help around the kitchen, then they should help out with something else.  At our house, I have decided that they should be included as focal point of my still life pictures.  Sure, technically they’re not still life pictures if there are people in them, but I just think that babies add a little I don’t know what (I can’t spell the swanky Frenchy Frog version of that) element to the picture.

Take these two snapshots for example:

Lucy(fer) As Spoon Rest

Damien Adds Extra Flavor to the Salad

You can see how much more interesting the photographs are with the help of 2 intolerable little brats adorable children.

So, on your next holiday, consider adding some flavor and spice to your own pictures. 

Note: No babies were harmed in the writing of this blog post.

Let The Douche Baggery Commence

My douche bag father is coming to town this weekend.  My sister and I are not very pleased.  Still, we have to make some kind of effort if we expect to remain in the will.  Not that there will be much left for us as we assume that he’ll be leaving the bulk of his estate (which is substantial) to our evil step-monster.  She has him wrapped around her bony ass little finger.  She is evil to the core.  She’s one of those women who you think is super nice, until you really get to know her and realize she’s a soul sucker with blonde hair and an annoying voice that will make your ears bleed if you listen to it for too long.

It’s been nearly 3 years since the last time they came to town.  As a matter of fact, he’s never even met Lucy(fer).  Not one single time.  He doesn’t ask for pictures, and he calls her by the wrong name. 

• Dad: “How’s Lillian doing?”
• Me: Her name is Lucy(fer).
• Dad: Sorry, that’s what I meant.  She’s going to be turning 3 this year in November, right?
• Me: How about 2 in October?
• Dad: Hey, did I mention that your evil step-monster and I are taking a week off from our hectic life in the tropical oasis of Oahu on our estate with a pool, and heading over to our beach front property in Florida for 2 weeks?

My sister and I are hoping that Lililan Lucy(fer) uses her evil powers on him and breaks his ear drums when he attempts to pick her up.  Actually, he’ll probably throw out his back too since she weighs as much as I do.  Damien has already informed us that he doesn’t want to hang out with his other grandpa because he’s “yucky”.  Can’t wait for him to say that to my dad’s face.  Good times, good times.

Damien has met my dad on 2 other occasions.  One of them happened to be a trip to Florida to the beach front estate.  How do I begin to explain the horror that was my family trip to Florida 3 summers ago? My father and evil step-monster thought it would be grand if we could all go down there and spend some time bonding as a family.

Let me just give you a few phrases to provide you a brief description:

1. The smell that hit us when we walked into the house where I would be staying.
2. The disgusting toilet I had to clean with a washcloth and bar soap because no one had bothered to do it before I arrived.
3. Random children all over the house, adding to the smell.
4. Having to watch the birth (via Cesarean section) of a child I did not know.
5. My step-monster’s racist father that insisted that Mexicans only eat goat and tortilla. Didn’t seem to bother him that I was Mexican, and insisted that it wasn’t the case.
6. My step-monster’s crazy mother breaking out into song, and insulting one of her daughters. Wonderful comments included, but were not limited to:
   • “Fatty fatty 2 by 4, can’t get through the kitchen door,”
   • “My god. I didn’t think they made swimsuits in your size,” and
   • “I don’t think that chair can take all of your weight.”
7. And let us not forget the convicted felon that had just been released. What was his crime? No one would tell us. All they would say is, “Best keep your little one away from him.”

Klassy, klassy trip.

Just thinking about it makes me want to bang my head on my desk and weep openly.

 

Fun For The Whole Family

I’ve always had a way with small children.  When I was younger my main source of income was from babysitting.  Okay, that’s a lie.  My parents were really generous and I had a very large allowance.  However, I did babysit a lot as I was fond of kids.

Here we are years later and I have none of my own.  I do, however, have Damien (3) and Lucy(fer) (1), my nephew and niece.  I love them dearly and have found that being with children in your family can be more fun/frustrating than with other people’s children.  One of my favorite things to do with them is corrupt them.

Here are a few things that I enjoy teaching them:

1. The appropriate response when someone asks them why they’re so cute.  What’s the response?  Botox!  Imagine the sheer horror the next time someone asks, “How’d you get so cute,” and your 2 year old nephew says, “Botox!”  It’s gold!
2. The joys of Fabreze.  Mmm…smells so good.  Tastes even better.
3. How to say cute things.  For example, I’ve just taught my year old niece how to whisper, “I see dead people.”  It’s hysterical.  Now, if only I could get her to go up to strangers and say it.
4. The appropriate way to respond when daddy won’t buy them that new toy.  The right thing for them to do is walk up to a complete stranger and say, “Daddy hits me.”  They’ll get they’re way every single time.
5. Oh, and let’s not forget giving them iced coffee.  Kids love iced coffee!  See?  Here’s Lucy(fer) enjoying hers.  Mmm…caffeine and sugar for a one year old.

Let me know if you want me to come over and babysit your kids anytime soon.

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Consider Yourself Warned

I’ve been inspired after reading this little gem of an article about Herman Flores who sold his sister for drugs.  I don’t do drugs, never been my thing.  But there are a few things out there that are getting expensive.

Sister, you might be sold for gasoline and or cocktails.  Pack a bag because you never know when it’s going to happen. Oh, and make sure that Damien and Lucy(fer) are bathed and they have a bag too.  I might put them up on ebay-I could use some heating oil.

This is a far better plan than my original one: Bartles & Jaymes for booze/fuel.  That’s being thrown right out the window.  This is what family is all about.  You mean a lot to me, and I hope I can get a high price for you.

F*ck That Sh*t!

This is probably going to come as a total shock to some of you (and by “some” of you I mean the 2 new people that are reading this blog for the very first time).  Ready?  Wait for it.  Here it comes: yours truly has a foul mouth.  I know!  SHOCKER!!  I’ve been dropping the f bomb for over 25 years now.  My sister and I went to this awesome liberal school in California where we were allowed to swear (the thought being that it would dilute the bad words and teach us to express ourselves in other ways) and call our teachers by their first names.

Their theory worked: when I’m angry with someone, I tend to go off at them, but never ever call them a fucker or a shithead.  Mainly I use the words to spice up my dialogue.  It’s good times, until I’m comfronted with someone who is not as liberal with their cursing.  This always makes me feel a little awkward.  I kind of want to grab them by the shoulders, shake them a little and tell them to loosen the fuck up. 

Recently, another challenge has presented itself: Damien and Lucy(fer) are talking and are picking up the things that I say.  One festive day Damien and I were fooling around on the computer and a page didn’t load and I said “shit”.  And wasn’t it so funny when 2 seconds later he said it again. . .and then proceeded to say it for the rest of the day.  My sister was horrified, I couldn’t help but laugh.  I did, however, realize it was in my best interest to watch what I say-something that I have also taken into consideration during meetings at work.  How strange to see people gawk at you when you describe their plan as “shitty”. 

So, fine people, I have decided to challenge myself.  1 week (starting on Monday, March 31) without swearing.  Not one single word out loud, and nothing goes on the blog.  No dirty words.  Just so we’re clear, let me tell you the words that are off the list: asshole, shit, fuck (or any form of the word), and cunt. 

Goodbye sweet dirty words.  I’m going to miss you. . .I really am, but it’s only for a week and then we’re be reunited!