It's one simple errand

The dogs ran out of food this morning so I had the boys come with me to the store because what's the point of having teenage boys if not to make them lift heavy objects, right? Right.  It was around 11:00 and I hadn't eaten in, like, 3 hours so I was starving, like seriously close to death and I really wanted to run in, grab the dog food and get out.  I could have easily done this had I been alone but I wasn't.  I had brought the two stooges with me and before I'd even parked the car I was envisioning how this simple, simple task was about to spiral into a chaotic cloud of sound effects, silly voices, faux anime fights and entire reenactments of YouTube videos.  Before the carnival ride down the main aisle of PetsMart had even started, my patience had run dangerously low. When we reached the dog food section, and Sam attempted to start Act I, Scene I: fade in on morons amongst the kibble, I snapped.

Me, "Can we just do this without all the Bullshit?!?!"

Silence.
Cue the crickets.

We got the errand completed in record time but Sam has been giving me this face all day:

<cough> <cough>
"I beg your pardon, Madam, but your outburst has left me deeply insulted."

8th Grades A'Comin

The boys will be starting 8th grade in a mere four weeks.  Yesterday I wandered through the school supply section at Target, enjoying the smell of crayons, the sight of pencils that still possessed their erasers and the feel of fresh new composition notebooks.  I love school supplies.  Long before I had kids or was even married, I would go school supply shopping for one of the moms that I worked with because she was so over the task and I loved picking through all the pencil sharpeners to find the red one.  With that being said, I have just one thing that I ask of the teachers, school administrators, district superintendents, the entire national common-core curriculum.  It's my grown-up Christmas wish.  Please, please, please, no more glue sticks.  I beg you.  Either initiate an arts program in the school system or put the craft supplies away once and for all.

They were fun to begin with, way back in Kindergarten, but trust me when I say, they have run their course.  I used to dream of the day when the boys might consider using a larger font for a column heading or line up the edges or apply more paste to the project than my furniture.  Those dreams were dashed on the same jagged rocks that slew my dreams of one day fitting back into my wedding dress. They will never cut in a straight line.  Let's move on.

I suppose I could defend them by saying that they are boys so glitter glue was not a significant part of their early childhood or I could say that they're teenagers and would much prefer to be playing video games. But the fact of the matter is, they just don't give a shit.  They barely give a shit about the rest of their homework; the worksheet pages, the essays, the quizzes and exams.  Hand them a box of colored pencils and the very last ounce of shit-giving that they had flies out the window.

My biggest issue with glue sticks is that whenever they are required, I have to run to the store and buy more.  The glue sticks that I bought for the previous project are either 1) lost, 2) dried out, or 3) eaten by the dog.  Abbey actually ate a project that Sam had completed and left on the coffee table.  Yum, cow hooves and rendered horse fat. They should flavor dog treats with that shit. The next day, I walked Sam all the way into his classroom just so I could see the look on his teacher's face when he told her that his dog ate his homework.  I've rarely giggled so hard. "Go on! Tell her.  Tell her!"  And don't even get me started on their inability to click the cap back on all the way. I should have bought stock in Elmers.

I keep hearing how kids today are vastly ahead of us academically then we were that age.  Well, that may be but we gave up paste in second grade and I'm quite sure that it didn't take a PTA initiative or a town hall meeting.  The moms just said, 'we're tired of the shit' and stopped buying it.  Rather than have them cut and paste together a brochure about the chief exports of Albania, how about having them make the brochure on the computer?  You've only got about $100K of computer equipment in that building and you keep asking me for money to buy more. Hell, you got a fucking 3D printer in there. They could make a roman coliseum rather than paste a picture of one onto a tri-fold display board. The computers even come with a handy cut and paste function that doesn't involve wiping paste all over my dining room table. AND developing brochures on a computer is an actual job. The last company that I worked for had an entire floor of people creating catalog layouts.  Not a glue stick, ruler or pair of scissors in sight. The craft supplies are only training these kids to be nannies.  Let's shoot a little higher, huh?

This year, I'm putting my foot down. I'll call in PETA if I have to. I'm sure they'd love to mount a campaign to have the old decrepit livestock put out to pasture rather than melted down in an attempt to present the rise of the agricultural revolution in a new and exciting way.  We can stage a protest with signs and chants and everything.  So, say it with me, girls, loud and strong, 'No more glue sticks!'

Mother of the Year - once again

The boys have been enrolled in a couple of different camps this summer.  This week it was badminton along with a two day babysitting class.  My friend, Suzanne, has a 9 year old boy, and she asked if my boys would be interested in babysitting.  Sam was all for it.  Tom agreed grudgingly.  They've only done it once and both loved it, mainly because they got paid to eat pizza and play video games.  With one good experience under their belts, John found a babysitting class that we thought might do them some good as they began looking for other opportunities.

The first class was this afternoon.  Tom doesn't like to do anything so his less-than-enthusiatic attitude was no surprise.  Sam has always been keen for whatever we sign him up for so I was surprised that he was so nervous when I dropped them off.

Sam, "I'm really regretting my decision to do this."
Me, "Why?"
Sam, "Uhhhh, I'm just not sure of it anymore."
Me, "Why?"
Sam, "Uhhh, nothing."
Then he climbed out of the car and walked a few steps away, turned around and climbed back into the car."
Me, "What?"
Sam, "I just really don't want to do this."
Me, "Why?"
Sam, "It's going to be all girls."
Me, "Is that a bad thing?"
Sam, "Well, there won't be any boys."
Me, "There will be at least two. So go on."
Sam, "uuuhhhh"
Me, "What are you worried about?"
Sam, "Sexism"
Me, <well, wasn't expecting that> "Huh?"
Sam, "It'll be a bunch of girls and just us and they'll be making sexist boy jokes."
And here's where I become a shoe-in for mother-of-the-year.
Me, "Suck it up, white boy."

I'm probably the last person to experience this....

So I went for a pedicure today.  I haven't had a pedicure in, at least, 5 years and it did not involve a massage chair.  Have you been on one of these??  I had not.  Yeah, I know you can find them at the mall and the county fair and the airport but I've never been even slightly tempted to try one out.  At least not until they start offering hepatitis vaccines at the booth next to it.  Anyway....the massage chair.  Oh my god!  How much do those things cost?  Do you think they'd take my car as a trade-in?  Never in my life have I been so tempted to buy a hideously ugly piece of furniture and put it smack dab in the middle of my living room.  I'd turned into a 19 year old frat boy. "Dude, we have GOT to get one of these!  We can put it next to the keg!"  I sat there for 30 minutes; boobs, gut and thighs jiggling away.  I'm quite sure that muscle tone would have unforgivably diminished the experience.  And the best part was that I kept sliding down in the chair.  I'd find my foot lodged in the poor lady's abdomen, grunt an apology and scoot back up into the seat.  I don't think I was drooling but no guarantees.  I don't know that last thing I spent $35 on, but I want a refund.

watch it wiggle, see it jiggle.....

Last Comic Con Entry, possibly

Why Comic Con is the Very Best Place Ever:

Disneyland - stand in a long line to have your bag checked
Universal Studios - stand in a long line to have your bag checked
Legoland - stand in a long line to have your bag checked
Airport - stand in a long line to have your bag checked
Baseball Game, Football Game, Hockey Game - stand in a long line to have your bag checked

Comic Con - they give you a really big bag and never ever ask to look in it

This is actually a medium sized bag.  There were much larger ones in case you couldn't decide which lego set to buy so you just got them all. Or you desperately needed 7 stormtrooper helmets.

Big enough to hold all my 'motions

Best Cos-Plays (That I saw)

Lipstick Taser!

Roy, "There's only two of us now."
Pris, "Then we're stupid. And we'll die."

HawkGirl, Bitches!
My pic doesn't do the wings justice.  They were AWESOME!

<shudder>

There was also an amazing Edward Scissorhands and LeeLoo from the 5th Element.  Leeloo was an overweight sweaty white guy in an orange wig and a white bandage outfit.  Close your eyes and imagine.  Gotta be Johnny-on-the-spot with your camera or you miss some good stuff!

Someone did not have the same Comic Con experience as I did

Me, "Let's binge-watch IZombie"
John, "Let's not"

Vacation Final Day

1 day at Disneyland, 2 1/2 days at Comic Con

I got my first blister on Day 1 in the Oakland Airport walking from security to the gate, in a pair of shoes that I'd been wearing for 6 months without incident.  

Just my feet's way of telling me, "We own you, bitch"

Still, it wasn't bad enough to wear DeeDee's orthopedic granny tennis shoes.

Lisa to DeeDee, "You have TWO pairs of these??"

Vacation Day 4

Me, "How do I look?"
Sam, "You look like a Comic Con Geek."
Me, "Okay, I guess that's good."
Sam, "It is good because we're at Comic Con. You'll fit right in."
Me, "But what if I run into a movie star? There are movie stars here. How do I look if I run into a movie star?"
Sam, <ppaauusssee>
Me, "Pause?"
Sam, "uhhhhhh"
Me, "Pause?"
Sam, "uhhhhhh"
Me, "That pause?....when your girlfriend or wife ask you that question, remember that pause.  And remove it."

Vacation Day 3

I figured out why we are at Disneyland.  It's to collect all of our emotions.  I started with Sadness and Disgust because, let's face it, that's me about 80% of the time.  And if I could lay on my back and have someone drag me around by my foot, I would sign up immediately.

Then after spending half the day trying not to get stepped on, I added Fear.  The boys spend as much time walking on my feet as their own.  This is how I look when their massive clod-hoppers are coming my way.

And it quickly turns to anger, and people look at me like I'm the worst mother in the world because they don't know that I've been, literally, walked on for 12 years.

When John and the boys went back to the park to watch the fireworks and I stayed in the room with ice on my knee because I'm old, I sent him a text asking him to bring me back some Joy because I really needed it.  He sent me this reply:

that's her little yellow arm sticking out of John's backpack

The next morning, John was having a really tough time.  He was trying to find out the street address of the rental car company at the airport but wasn't having much luck.  He made four separate phone calls from the room, not counting the times he was cut off and was getting more and more incensed by the minute.
John, "I just want to know the actual street address."
Their responds, "What's your reservation number?"  "Are you still picking up the car today?" "Would you like an upgrade?"  "Paper or plastic?"
I tried to help and called the local office.  They gave me the address in about 30 seconds but that just made him madder.  Until he realized that I was given the same wrong address he had been given.  That made him feel a little better.

We eventually made it down to the lobby and he tried a couple more times to extract the, apparently top-secret, street address and only managed to get ahold of a guy who may or may not have been speaking English.  He was infuriated.  I was doing my best to help by offering lots of really good suggestions but it just wasn't working.  He needed Joy.  So I tried to give him my Joy but he was having nothing to do with it.

Me, "Here, hold my Joy."
John, "You need to get away from me."
Me, "But it's JOY!"
John, "Don't touch me with that thing."
Me, "Hmmm, you are sounding more like Disgust. Do you want to hold Disgust."
John, "Go Away. Now."

I tried again when we got in the cab.

He gave Joy the bird.  Or maybe he gave me the bird, I'm not sure.  I rested Joy in my bag so she could gaze upon him during the car ride and radiate Joy in his direction.  I know he appreciated this deep down inside but couldn't admit it because he was ashamed to have previously rejected the Joy.  That's okay, I know what he needs even when he doesn't.

Vacation Day #2

Vacation Day #1

Arrived at hotel,

John, "Guys, charge your phones."
Sam, "I can't find mine."
John, "Look."
Sam, "I can't find it."
John, "Where did you look?"
Sam, "Everywhere."
Sam, "Use your Find IPhone app."
John uses the app and Sam's phone starts making that underwater sonar noise.
noise continues
noise continues
noise continues
John, "It's over in that corner."
noise continues
noise continues
noise continues
John, "Sam, you're right on top of it."
noise continues
noise continues
noise continues
Sam, "Oh, found it."
John, "Oh my god! It was in your pocket?! It was in his pocket!"
Me, "You couldn't find the phone that was ringing at your ass?????"

We are so proud.

Boy, Do I Love Summer

During the school year, the boys are up and in the kitchen when I am so I can gently remind them over and over and over to empty the dishwasher or put away the cereal boxes, or whatever.  When I left the house this morning, the boys were still in their rooms so I left notes for them.

On the Countertop

On the Pantry Door

On the Fridge

On the T.V.

All four notes were within viewing distance of the others. They all read the same thing:

I was starting small.  Feed the Dogs.  Just the one thing.  Didn't care about the dishes, didn't care if they were dressed, didn't care if their teeth were brushed, Didn't care if there was food all over the counter.  Just Feed the Dogs.

So I walked into the house and:

Me, "Didn't you feed dogs?"
Tom, <making a long, loud, disgusted noise which loosely translates to  "God, you're such a pain in the ass."
Sam, "Huh?"
Me, "I left notes all over the place."
Boys, "I didn't see them."
Me, "Your cereal bowl is sitting half on one of them."
Boys, <grunts>
Me, "You're playing video games! Who took the note off the t.v., crumpled it up and threw it on the coffee table?"
Boys, "Not me."
Me, "Well, I know it wasn't one of the dogs.  You know how I know that?  I know that because they want to be fed."
Boys, <more grunting>
Me, "FEED THE DOGS!!"
Boys, "Jeez, you woke up in a bad mood."

I'm moving out until school starts up again.